


Love and Acceptance

by schrijver



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Mating Rituals, Ravens are cuties, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2018-10-23 13:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrijver/pseuds/schrijver
Summary: Spring arrives, and so does mating season to all living creatures. Nightmares, however, are what this moment of the year brings to Maleficent, who can only watch as everyone is happy to find a match while there is none for her - the daughter of two forgotten kinds.But what else can she do anyway? Romance - and everything that comes with it (family, an offspring, etc) - was never a possibility to hybrids like herself. Besides, Diaval would never look at her 'like that'.Would he?





	1. Season of Torments

**Author's Note:**

> So, I already posted this story on another site, so don't panic. I'm not stealing from anyone but myself. lol  
> I hope you enjoy!

The once called _fae queen_ walked through the woods. Almost didn't pay any attention to her surroundings, looking straight at the endless trees in front of her without further thoughts on what she saw or felt. Barefoot, she used to sigh now and then, the pleasure of feeling the wet ground beneath her feet up being something very reassuring. Her wings, remarkably beautiful and strong, dragged elegantly by the earth, leaving a trail wherever she passed by, covering the small footprints she left impregnated in the dirty earth covered in melted snow.  
  
A week had passed since the beginning of spring, and damp air seemed to impose its presence around the dense land of the Moors. The arrival of the heat was abrupt, but not at all unexpected. Torrid storms came soon after, bringing life to all living beings, making the flowers to bloom and animals to bathe in a splendid curtain of cool and refreshing liquid. But as rain came, it was gone as a cork passenger, allowing the creatures to get out of their nests for the first time in days. Maleficent stood out among such creatures as she opted to wander around at night. She abandoned her nest in the ruins and decided to walk aimlessly. She noticed, however, the changes brought by time, grateful to know that Mother Nature was naturally kind.  
  
Her lands have never been _so_ beautiful.  
  
Looking up to the sky, she could see the natural and electrically phenomenal event characterized by the appearance of bright lights on the dark blue coat that covered the lands. She paused for a moment, observing a bole of an old and worn tree. Golden magic travelled through her slender fingers as she rested her hand on the tree, and seconds later the bole was restored from the ravages of time and probably some unwanted insects.  
  
After a moment, the fae of magnificent wings was back to her nightly rounds, walking and feeling the breeze touching her powerful cheeks, a funny noise penetrating her pointed ears, making her sigh wearily due the lack of sleep once again insisted on its claim.  
  
Eight seasons had passed since the end of the curse. Since Aurora's coronation as ruler of the Moors until her eighteenth birthday, this one, by the way, shall take place in a few days. Maleficent, as the young queen's fairy godmother, knew that the little beastie must be planning some kind of feast and she would probably invite both her kingdoms to celebrate with her, to smile and laugh all the time. However, feasts use to bring complicated dances and smiling couples, definitely not Maleficent's favourite way to have fun.  
  
"But everything for the little beastie." She mused. There was nothing she wouldn't do for the girl, in fact, she couldn't say no to her, and if Queen Aurora asked her to dance, Maleficent would dance.  
  
A small smile graced her beautiful face.  
  
Sometimes she couldn't believe herself.  
  
As the seasons changed, her love for the girl became so natural that she knew she had to adapt herself to the changes that each time and circumstances brought her. Time would pass and with it, day and night would disappear on the horizon, leaving tracks behind. Over time, the leaves would fall and the blooming flowers would appear, rainy days and snowy nights, the warmth of the sun and the moonlight, all together with the celebration of eighteen winters since the birth of the little beastie, and the so spoken words of her curse.  
  
No matter what her servant tells her, not even the sweet things Aurora did. Nothing would make her forget what she did and the guilt that plagued her was sometimes too big to handle. The pain of Stefan's betrayal and the loss of her most precious possession – her wings – had been so terrible that it corrupted her, and she, so young and foolish, allowed hatred to poison her heart and curse a child, an innocent baby that since that fateful day would smile at her every time their paths crossed.  
  
Ice walls one day used as barriers, indestructible modelled in hatred and bitterness, now crumbled by the voice of a simple girl, whose eyes lit up at her godmother decides to spend the afternoon talking to her. What was left of an old heart was stolen as a gem by a thief in autumnal night.  
  
Maleficent then smiled, seeing the coincidence of the beastie being born in spring, the time of growth and renewal, the birth of a new life, the beginning of better times. Aurora had been her redemption, a way of the gods to tell her not everything was lost, that she could love again.  
  
She looked around the blooming fields. For a beautiful sunrise, the light in the darkness aroused by betrayal, loss and grief...for her god-daughter Aurora, the fae was extremely grateful.  
  
Tiredness expressed itself through a long, deep sigh, and her soul begged deliberation as well, trying to forget the past. It is a fact that her mind was the reason she left the nest before sun appears. She was at war with her own soul, which actively persisted in tormenting her dreams. Sleep was a bit difficult with so many disturbing memories. As usual, magic nothing could do to avoid frightful iron monsters, and as night unearthed memories of thoughts and feelings too old to consider, guilt consumed the remaining fair emotions.  
  
So she kept walking. She walked to forget.  
  
It did not take long for the sign of the day to arise on the horizon, marking the beginning of twilight. The presence of weak sunlight made a big difference, even with moon can still be seen in the distance. Maleficent narrowed her eyes to protect them from the upcoming light and made the shortest way to her nest. Winter had been very cruel to her tree, which was yet to form leaves, leaving the fae the option to return to her nest in the ruins. When the beastie found out about it – Diaval just could not keep his mouth shut -, she quickly offered them both one of the most luxurious chambers in the castle.  
  
Maleficent had to refuse.  
  
" _I need to care for the Moors_ ," and the queen, the lovely girl she was, accepted her godmother's reasons with no objections.  
  
And her nest was a nice place to live. It had everything she needed. There was a large bed made of dry leaves, straw and deerskin, some decorative flowers meticulously placed by Diaval and a fireplace enchanted by her. The food was also provided by her magic, but sometimes Diaval brought her a few things from farms, and she could not tell if such attitude irritated her or not. She had told him many times not to take risks because most humans were stupid, and they could hurt him with spears and arrows. The sight of long scars printed on his pale skin demonstrated that her orders were entirely ignored, with the raven so willing to help and please. While healing the wounds, she had called him stupid. He had laughed, because they both knew that there was no sincerity situated in her words. How could it be? More than a servant, that silly raven was a friend, and she would be blatantly lying if she said it was not nice to have him around.  
  
Finally, the sun rose completely from its den, and the lands were hit with bright white light, warmer than ever.  
  
The protector of the Moors left the woods and walked through the open fields. The wind hit on her wings, comforting them after so many years trapped in a glass cage with unique views of the human king.  
  
Maleficent frowned, for although her heart no longer beat for him, his memory was still uncomfortable.  
  
She breathed the pure, moist air, a warm and comforting breeze hitting her face, making her feel like forgetting such memories.  
  
Spreading her wings, she flew home.  
  
Landed on the window ledge, only to open two curtains and step inside. There was a hidden door in the lowest part of the ruins, a secret passage that one day had been used by beings without wings and herself, when she had lost hers. However, the door had been forgotten as soon her wings were attracted to her back. The only one who knew of its existence was Diaval – because he had accompanied his mistress wherever she went for longer than sixteen years – and Aurora, who obviously did not have wings, but had to use the door every time she went to visit her godmother in her nest. The young queen had been there several times, spending whole days talking about her kingdom, asking for advice, and seemed to have appreciated the place and how clean it was.  
  
Maleficent would not accept otherwise. She could be a wild creature to human eyes, but as fae, although not a pure one, yet the most powerful of all, Maleficent was full of quirks and mannerisms, always making clear that her word should always be heard, and obviously not accepting anything less than good care of the place she would call home.  
  
It was at times like these that she appreciated having chosen a raven as a servant.  
  
Times were hard and she could hardly sleep due the nightmares with iron wings and men with chains. Her back still ached, her magic was beginning to heal the wounds, and she was not able to focus on something that was not the curse. She knew that rest was required to her wounds to heal as quickly as possible, and the thought of how tall her tree was had been quite bothering. Sleeping in one of its branches would result in a painful death, with her body falling from that cliff.  
  
This way, she asked Diaval to help her on finding a place to a new nest. He took an afternoon for doing so, and another afternoon to take her there. She recognized the place as the ruins that had once been her refuge in difficult times, and knew then that the raven she had seen that fateful day had been her servant. Her trusting on him increased immensely during the nest-building process, and he seemed so excited while doing it. Maleficent could still see the special affection his black eyes bloomed while he collected branches and searched for flowers. He had been rather thorough on his task, but when you speak of a raven, the most methodical bird in those lands, you cannot expect less than perfection.  
  
The result of his work was a small, but comfortable nest.  
  
The curtains had a dark blue tone, resembling the night sky, and it gave the place a distorted and interesting look. A comfortable heat seemed to prevail, circulating her entire body, enough to give her a sudden desire to lie down on her nest and sleep for seven days.  
  
When her tired eyes gazed down at the nest, however, she felt her heart squeeze around its own cage of bones.  
  
Diaval was gone.  
  
Maleficent waited three seconds to curse under her breath.  
  
She did not know exactly what to think. She simply left without warning him because she did not want to bother him again. He was tired after a full day flying over the Moors in search of problems to solve and she wanted him to rest. By the way, she had ordered him to rest after shutting him up with a spell because he kept asking about her well-being instead of caring about his own state of mind and body, to say at least.  
  
Maleficent sighed, massaging her temples.  
  
The stupid bird had to fly after her. Of course he would, she did not know why such attitude still caught her off guard.  
  
Surely, he was a good servant, taking care of his mistress' belongings and knowing what to do to please her without the need of words, but his concern, most of times, exceed any kind of expectations. He ends up forgetting about the most frivolous things, as when was the last time he ate, or the last time he slept.  
  
Absurd was to say that she didn't appreciate what he did to her – where to find a servant as loyal as him? –, but the lack of importance he gave to his 'beautiful self', of which he's so much proud of, was worrying. She cared for him, as much she did for the little beastie, and she knew that her feelings were mutual, because if it were the opposite she would have found the raven asleep in the nest.  
  
Maleficent could not prevent a tired smile to form in her face.  
  
Her body was restless after waking up from a nightmare.  
  
It was a common thing for her, but it has never been as frequent and disturbing as it has been recently; not even in the darkest time of her life, when mental and physical pain for the loss of her wings brought her to a chaotic state of crying and screaming.  
  
Notwithstanding, last night had been a unquiet one.  
  
Sweat covered her face, running up to her neck, chest heaving due the rapid breathing, the image of the moonlight rise clear in front of her eyes. Open curtains revealed the horizon of the Moors, and the silence of the rest of the creatures living there. When she dared to breathe, the feel of the leaves and flowers surrounded her senses and under her fingers were branches - which incessantly served as support - trying to hold up the release of the ardent black magic in her veins.  
  
The sight of her servant lying beside her made her hold the sobs that her throat, as sour as her soul, dangerously emitted. Lifting a hand to stroke his feathers, she realized she was shaking just like the rest of her body, which seemed to freeze with the cold breeze after the rain. She sighed and nuzzled the soft fabric of his dark shirt, since his thick coat had been folded and put under his head as a pillow.  
  
She turned away to put on her robes.  
  
Casting the sleeping curse was easier than not to look back when flying out the window, for the reason she knew that the curtains would be closed by the sudden sound of dust in the air.  
  
A deep sigh left her mouth.  
  
He would return soon, she knew, probably shouting, complaining about not being disturbed, and she knew she would feel tempted to broke her promise of never turn him into anything he despised – mostly dogs and wolves –, but she missed his annoying babbling so much that to be scolded as a young girl almost did not bother her.  
  
It would be worthwhile. The desire to have his dark silhouette by her side was greater than her irritation of knowing she would have to hear his scolding voice. For she needed him to be there, for if he was there, she knew she would be fine. It could be labelled as deeply wrong and dangerous to depend on someone, but concern was the last thing on her thoughts, for just the sight of him sleeping beside her was a consolation to her fears.  
  
Of the many times she had turned Diaval into a human, a few of them were to have his arms around her, bringing some sort of brief relief to her tormented soul. It did not take long for them to share the nest. Against all odds, have him sleeping beside her was not frightening. He was her servant. It would be ridiculous to fear him.  
  
Although that, within time, she could no longer be seen sleeping without his presence on the other side of the nest. Therefore, his human form was always required, as it has been in her most recent memories.  
  
It was strange to think, but it had happened by his request. He was a bird. He was observant and under his worried gaze were all the nightmares she ever had. He knew that she lost any line of reasoning after a nightmare. She had never told him about them, but he probably knew what they were about: the loss of her wings, the words of her curse, and Aurora's sleeping form.  
  
_"Let me sleep as a man from now on. This way you will never have to worry about transforming me again."_  
  
The bird was clever. He knew of the dependence she had on him, and did not care.  
  
Knowing how selfish her attitudes were, the second thought required to every rational decision made no sense to her then, for everything was fine when Diaval was around. No gesture ever indicated such a need. His heat was like a blanket, his heartbeat turned out to be a lullaby, and the feel of his breath on the skin of her neck made her feel alive.  
  
How strange their relationship was at times. This bond they had built from friendship and companionship - from love, she dares to say - was as strong as she the one she shared with the little beastie, and made the feelings she once had for Stefan look nothing more than butterflies in her stomach, a sweeping cold down her body.  
  
A smile graced her face, happiness and satisfaction taking over her veins as she lay down on the nest.  
  
The sight of the blue gentians and white orchids, purple harebells, orange hawk-weeds, and pink yarrows provide a sea of colours to those emerald pearls she seemed to have instead of eyes. The faculty of perceiving scents was started by the sight of a folded black coat, hidden among the branches and flowers. There was some reluctance from her part, but two or three seconds later, the coat was already in her hands, her touch triggered at the feeling of the thick fabric, and the aroma it emanated. Downing the smell of wet earthy and wild berries started the incessant beat of her heart, suddenly pounding in her chest, tearing away her breath and making sighs to leave her mouth. Maleficent folded the coat under her head and lay on her side, her wings lazily stretching to cover part of her body.  
  
Her thoughts were still on her servant while she heard carefully to the bird songs. A few hours after sunrise and the living and magical beings of the Moors were already up for another day. It was amazing how happiness seemed to penetrate their veins and make their eyes shine.  
  
White light reflected endless colours in contact with the dark curtains of her nest and interesting moments later the walls had on a bright blue tone, a show of colours worthy of admiration. The remaining traces of light that were able to pass through the curtains reached random parts, like the fireplace - now off - and Maleficent, who was delighted by the sun's heat warming her blood.  
  
A gentle wind crossed the limits of the nest, opening the curtains and allowing a perfect breeze to travel through the branches and flowers up to her face. The peace Maleficent sought was felt inside of her chest, soothing her wounded heart. As soon as the warm breeze was gone, the curtains were closed again, and darkness overlapped the nest for what it seemed to be permanent.  
  
Maleficent gladly closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh.  
  
_Caw! Caw! Caw!_  
  
Infinite relief took over her breathe, which was being held for longer than she expected. Maleficent sat down on the nest to stare expectantly at window. She smiled slightly to see no more than a bird of feathers as black as night and strong and loyal wings entering the nest.  
  
The raven landed on one of her horns. He bent his head down and pecked her forehead.  
  
_Caw!_  
  
Maleficent raised an eyebrow. She knew that the bird had gone after her early in the morning and was not sure how she should proceed by the way he gazed at her right now.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
_Caw!_  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Diaval."  
  
He landed on one of her knees and shook his head in response to the previous words. She reached out and stroked his feathers. The creature purred, taking a short laugh from her throat. "Such a spoiled creature."  
  
_Caw! Caw! Caw!_  
  
The raven flapped his wings on her face.  
  
"Diaval!"  
  
Maleficent's gasp was soon forgotten as the bird landed by her feet to turn into a man.  
  
He had only asked to change shapes at night, to be able to hold and comfort her, but she was so moved by his words that when the crown was placed on Aurora's head, and without a word, Maleficent bewitched him. Diaval now had absolute control over his transformations, a gift for all the years of servitude and unquestionable friendship he offered her. He was one of the few creatures she could trust, probably the only one she could consider as a friend, and definitely someone very dear to her, as much as Aurora, who so affectionately referred to him as godfather. Maleficent could still see the glow in little beastie's face when they went to visit her a week ago.  
  
_"Godmother! Godfather! It's so good to see you both here!"_  
  
Seconds passed to ebony feathers become white skin covered with scars, along with a pointed nose and straight hair with a few dark feathers on the top of his head. A so typical frown emerged on his pale face, causing Maleficent to roll her eyes in annoyance.  
  
"Another nightmare?"  
  
The caring and worried tone used by his voice was noticed by her. She sighed. She could see his face by the corner of her green eyes. He was annoyed.  
  
How wonderful.  
  
"I didn't ask you to worry for my dreams," She sighed tiredly at the sound of a snort. Recalling of the so many years of nightmares consoled by his arms, she couldn't help, but feel immense tiredness running through her muscles. "I appreciate your- _Kindness._ It's good to know that someone cares. But you needed to rest, after helping so many with their worries. So I left."  
  
She thought that his answer, full of fallacies and an exaggerated tone of concern, would come immediately. But that's not how it happened. No, instead of the anticipated scold, of which she was so used of hearing since the beginning of her nightmares, reminding her of a parent struggling with a child, her raven-friend was silent, a simple wrinkle in his brow.  
  
He was not angry. He was confused and hurt.  
  
It had never been her intention to hurt him.  
  
"Diaval-"  
  
He raised a hand, stopping her in middle sentence.  
  
"I really thought that after so many years you would know that I don't care about servitude. We've even talked about it. So many times that my beautiful self is hurt to hear your words, _mistress_."  
  
A deep frown took over her face. She hated the sound of _such word_ and hearing him calling her like was rather irritating. She looked at him to see him running hand through his dark hair, sighing dramatically. Upon raising his eyes to meet hers, he smiled slightly, "And, ignoring all said about dreams, it is my duty to worry about what happens in your mind while you sleep, even if you have never really told me what it is, whether I need to sleep or not." He stopped to watch her, laughing to learn that she was angry with him. "We are friends and friends help each other, right?"  
  
"I just wanted-"  
  
"To be good, yes, I believe, _the Mistress of All Evil_ taking pity on her poor servant." He said in a playful tone, in order to make the serious expression on her face disappear at once. A slap on the head was his reward. "All right, all right, maybe not _the Mistress of All Evil_ , but-"  
  
" _The Mistress of All Evil_ would never take pity on anyone." She said softly. "She takes care of her friends, though."  
  
Her gaze didn't leave his even with his hand resting on one of her knees.  
  
"Promise me." She raised her eyebrows at him, surprised by the serious and, at the same time, protective expression he could keep in his dark eyes.  
  
Tiredly, she finally snapped, " _Fine._ Now go to rest, little birdy. I know you're tired."  
  
"So much care for her servants, I see."  
  
That made it. Maleficent slapped Diaval on the back of his head again. The raven-man seemed to have some appreciation in irritating her, and she always had the willingness to make him remember whom she was and what she could do to him. Of course she would never do anything, but loved to play the part, after all, it was nice to have him close, and, above all, it was nice to know that he wanted to be close to her.  
  
"You speak as if I have forgotten of all the times you came back from a farm with a new scar." She said dryly, not enjoying remembering such a thing.  
  
Her eyes declined over the exposed skin of the man, revealing his strong chest covered by scars that undoubtedly caused great pain. Marvelling her eyes through his features, she soon realized the blood stain very poorly covered by the fabric of his black shirt.  
  
"You're a fool, birdy." She muttered and crawled to him, stopping inches from him, feeling his breath against her forehead. Legs touching, skilful fingers unlacing his shirt. He blushed, not daring to do or say anything. Brushing the blood with her fingerprints, she narrowed her green eyes at him, "What did this to you?"  
  
Diaval's response was quiet and simple, "A hawk."  
  
She said nothing in response while landing her hand over the wound in his belly, golden magic shining through her fingers and being passed to pale skin. He let out a painful hiss, for his skin burned like fire. When the golden light suddenly disappeared, all left was another scar.  
  
"How it's possible to a hawk to have caused such wound?"  
  
Diaval sighed tiredly.  
  
"Mistress-"  
  
"You didn't turn into a man." Green eyes suddenly turned dark. "You _had_ to fight in your natural form because you _can_ fight without the use of magic!" Flashes of fights hovered on her mind and she could not help but complain, "Why must men be so full of pride?"  
  
Such as a human child had once did, his black eyes stared back at her, showing the same innocence and good will of the purest nymphs and the courage of the wood elves, protecting the trees that served them as home. Complacency squeezed her heart, whose sudden pain made her lovingly smile, not waiting for the answer that would come with soft words full of passion.  
  
"He wouldn't tell me where you were, mistress."  
  
She arched an eyebrow at him, silent was her surprise and secret satisfaction and affection for the bird. She raised a hand and outlined the scars just above the line of his thick eyebrows, and then slid her fingers through his dark hair, combing the feathers on top of his head. Such movements dragged out weak sighs for what seemed like minutes before the halting request came:  
  
"Lay down with me?"  
  
Utterly ignored, the longing glances he gave her when he thought she wasn't looking harboured her soul. She knew of his time watching her sleeping at night, and even flying through the skies for nothing, laughing to feel the wind in her face.  
  
But it was so painful to her heart to admit it. Maleficent just could not believe in the acclaimed love that her servant so obviously had for her in so clear secret. It would be too painful to surrender to the inebriating passion and fantasy of only seeing him next to her, and then become aware that such feelings were no more than pity. She had enough pity coming from the other inhabitants of the land of the Moors. These, for the most part also feared her, even though she demonstrated them more than once that she would never do them any harm, creating even a wall of cruel thorns to protect them from the human intrusion that would certainly come with the curse upon the human king's child.  
  
Small, however, was the impact of such fear, for she had always been alone, as daughter of darkness and light, she waited for the moment when the beings in the Moors, of whom she longed for respect and absolute affection, would turn theirs backs to her.  
  
It was just a matter of time.  
  
Such time of painful abandonment, however, threatened to return worse, with the sight of her beloved raven rejecting her advances.  
  
Because more painful than the loss of her wings would be to see his silhouette leaving her nest and never coming back, for he was her wings and always would be. So she kept him with her, as her servant, and his freedom would come if he asked. Sometimes Maleficent thought he never would do such a thing, not because he was fond of her, no, but because his heart knew that she could not have peace without him. She had become so dependent on his warmth, now more than ever, with the little beastie no longer living nearby, and terrible was the thought of not having him around. Other times, just like now, Maleficent was filled with hope, the hope of having her heart - once ruled by hatred and rancour - accepted and loved, for the end of loneliness and nightmares was found in his arms.  
  
At least, as much he was willing to put an end to both torments, she would be fine and just lay beside him, as she did now, the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear while his warm hands stroked the feathers of her wings, causing them to move unwittingly.  
  
Silent gratitude lasted through the darkness caused by curtains blocking the sunlight, which was as strong and bright as the transparent emotions blooming in both beating hearts.  
  
It was a beautiful morning in the Moors.


	2. The differences between 'duty' and 'loyalty'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mistress was a true vision when she was asleep.
> 
> He wished he could stop thinking about it.

As morning slowly went by, the vast land of the Moors seemed to be in full swing. A few animals took advantage of the sunlight to stroll around, sometimes looking for food, sometimes fleeing from predators in the skies. Blooming flowers covered the trees and served as ornament to nests. Trees moved according to the winds' will, bees flew everywhere, spreading seeds, pollen and dust. Crystal water of rivers and lakes was sparkling brightly like the most precious stones. Magical creatures had fun: pixies laughed; water nymphs swam; wallerbogs cooled off in the mud and Tree-warriors patrolled dense jungles.

Not so far away from the cliffs and the woods, but by the edge of majestic fields, the ruins of an abandoned castle could be seen, bearing the humility brought by destruction as only two ancient towers fought against time. Warm spring breeze kept hitting against these towers, and dark silk curtains danced when touched, revealing a hidden nest – a secret keeper.

Of the few earthly creatures who dared approaching the castle in ruins, all of them knew of the living beings resting within the hidden nest, and of their importance to the kingdom. Therefore, such was their surprise at the sight of their protector flying _into_ her nest so early in the morning.

It made them worry. Memories of wings and iron plagued her dreams. Their guardian was zealous and careful towards the kingdom. Her patrols usually lasted hours flying above the fields and rivers, through jungles and cliffs, always looking for problems to solve – but, in fact, hoping to find none. The Queen could make her smile; her kind heart had taught her how to love again, but to keep her mind sane…Nobody had the answers. Who could help the fae if not the Queen?

The creatures were puzzled. They were just couldn't plausible explanation for that uncommon situation.

The fae herself did not seem to notice their concern. She gave her kingdom a brief glance before disappearing from their view. The creatures understood that silence was necessary for their guardian to rest, so they went back on flowering.

When nothing seemed to be more important than said task, a contrast of dark feathers against the bluest of skies made them choke.

Understanding hit on their minds and the creatures felt relief. Oddly enough, a bird who represented the strongest sign of bad luck was a servant for their protector, the once evil and now beloved Maleficent.

Maybe not all hope was lost. Maybe the raven could help her. Every single citizen in the Moors knew of the importance of his presence had to the fae and the Queen, so perhaps he was the one destined to give Maleficent something no one ever dared to.

So, the creatures headed north, leaving the fields behind, hoping the peace to remain as the sunlight warmed their morning.

In the ruins though, darkness was more valuable. With the sun settled firm and strong in the centre of the sky, announcing another beautiful and warm day, its light was vivid to all living beings. It took little time to find its way into the nest in the ruins, modestly trespassing the curtains hit by wind to finally reach asleep and slightly flushed faces – a result of the heat. The nest itself was warm enough. It was made of thick branches of a tree that had invaded the castle by order of green magic, forming a circle. Branches and fur properly lined its base while dark purple blankets made it look like a very large human bed. It was cosy, more than many human houses or luxurious chambers in castles, and surely more than welcome to many.

However, the burning sensation was not appreciable after some time. The raven-man who also lived in the nest in the ruins found it quite disturbing. So, he took his coat from under his head and put it over his face, blocking the light. Then, as if to annoy him, the wind suddenly stopped hitting the curtains and darkness reigned once more.

The raven-man let out a sigh and pushed his coat aside. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision. There were two small pillows made of blue silk at his feet. He had discarded his shoes just before falling asleep, placing them by the nest's edge. A dark red blanket covered him and his companion.

She was sleeping so peacefully. She had her head rested on his chest and her face expressed welcome serenity. Her breathing was even, yet her wings would shuffle from time to time, a response to what he hoped to be dreams of clear skies and peaceful lands.

She has fallen asleep little time after they had lay together in the nest. The raven-man was not surprised. The fatigue in the grumpy behaviour she had been showing these days was evident to him. Every time she lay in the nest, she seemed to faint in tiredness and distress. The arriving of a new season and how things got a little crazy since the end of winter might be the reason. Listening to so many voices complaining about the storms could make anyone scream in anger – which was, in fact, exactly what she did. With so many problems to solve, her body, mind and soul evidently begged for some rest to maintain some sanity.

The fae denied it, of course. Diaval could not say he was surprised, because Maleficent, the most powerful creature in these lands, preferred to solve problems personally and without foreign interferences. Still, he really thought she would appreciate his smartness, seeing that ravens are known to be the cleverest of birds.

He frowned.

He wondered what went through that mind of hers, what her dreams were about to make her so scared and fragile, a contradiction of what she truly was. He _knew_ her – seventeen years sharing a nest have made him see different sides, but there were times she was incomprehensible to his raven mind, not to mention her lack of perception and the development of an _annoying_ habit of not waiting to _order him around_ that only troubled him further.

He just wished she would talk to him. Nothing about nightmares was ever said between them, but then again, she was Maleficent – she never talked about herself.

Sighing, the raven-man turned to lay on his side, propping himself on his elbow to have a better look of his mistress. His hand was modestly placed on the curve of her waist in a protective manner. Curiously, the fae moved closer and snuggled up against his chest, a hand holding onto the trick fabric of his shirt, as if trying to prevent him from...leaving, perhaps?

Diaval could see himself scolding at the mere insinuation. Any thoughts were foolish and unfounded. He knew he had paid his debt on the night of Aurora's birthday. Therefore, it would be acceptable for him to leave, find himself a mate and have hatchlings, as any other raven would if in his place.

But Diaval was never _just a raven_ , was he? No other raven would be able to lay down in the same nest of a fae, in the first place. The simple thought of it made his heart pump sweet jealousy, arousing possessive thoughts.

Frowning, he unconsciously wrapped tightening his grip on her waist. The muscles of her back contracted slightly, and the warmth emanating from the blood running through her veins turned into something evident. But when his fingers began a soft caress, innocently revealing in the fabric of the light-green gown she was wearing, the fae relaxed and leaned against him, sighing contently.

His frown deepened.

He had no wish to leave her. Besides, ravens were loyal to the ones they considered _family_. She needed him and it was an honour to be there, whatever she asked him to do, whenever she wanted to. As a servant, as a friend, even a _slave_ , he did not care. He was just glad to please her. Because she was Maleficent, his mistress, his beloved fae, the one he loved so much, the one he could not – and should not – dream of having, for she needed him to appease her dreams, and although she shared some of the kindness he offered her, she certainly did not see him as her... _beloved_.

He let out a sigh.

Looking down at the creature in his arms, he removed his hand from her back to let his fingers trace the base that sustained the pair of horns which more looked like a powerful crown. Maleficent did not seem to mind his light touch – she was too sleepy, too engrossed in her own land of dreams and, dare he hope, too comfortable in the warmth of his body. Her body was used to such cosiness and her lips parted to release a sigh, becoming, at least to him, as forbidden as water in a desert.

His throat was suddenly dry and he moved his hand away and lay back down on his back, eyes staring straight at the celling.

He cursed in a thought.

After all those years, the sight of mistress would make his heart beat faster for some endless moments, and then his lungs would miss the air around him as strong feelings cried once more. But there was nothing for him to claim. The situation was not helping anyhow. He was lying in a nest with his mistress snuggled against him.

His cheeks felt like burning in the sun, in the exception that there was no sun to burn.

Here there is bird, deeply in love, wings as weakness rather than a benefit, mainly because he had contact with her wings, and yes, that was a problem. When you want something that you cannot have, it is recommended to stay away from it, to avoid temptation and suffering.

But Diaval _couldn't_ stay away.

He remembered of when his mistress came to him, actually _asking_ him to preen her wings, on the morning after the battle at the castle.

He thought he was dreaming. A simple raven to preen such beautiful wings? His answer was obvious. It took almost an entire morning to do it because sixteen years locked in a glass cage had her feathers covered in dust. It was nothing patience and determination could not solve, though. Around noon of the same day, his mistress was already flying.

It was before such vision that Diaval knew he had fallen in love with her all over again. He had loved her for years to no end; her emerald eyes and charming pride. Her wings only made him aware of his condition: lost in a sea of feathers of the most perfect kind. They carried a very dark brown colour, then black. Some of them were grey, located on her lower back, and were considerably smaller, keeping falling onto the nest all the time. Of so soft, it reminded him of the feathers of a little hatchling.

He smiled weakly at that.

He wondered if he was to be a father one day. He wished his children not to come through bluish-green eggs though. He found babies adorable, mostly because of Aurora, who was quite lovely as a child. He would not mind on having little faes with horns and huge wings as his children. The image of them flying together would be, without any doubt, the greatest happiness he could ever wish for, even though that to come true, it would take a miracle.

He looked back at his mistress again.

Taking care of Maleficent was a duty he exposed with pride. His favourite pastime was to see her smile with ease. An oasis in the lonely desert that was his life. Now to resist all the rest, with his body tingling in desire and lust? It was not at all that simple, for his hands, as long as every inch of his skin begged for the contact waited through years of servitude and passion hidden within impulses of a hopeless heart.

How to fight such powerful feelings? Just to look at his mistress could drive him mad. Grace and elegance were predominant in her stubborn pride. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

But Diaval saw no perspective, no future for them. There were times when images played with his mind, so used to prank him at night, reproducing sensations so strangely common after years of servitude, as the desire to lie down next to her, fuse his body within hers and mark his scent on her skin with saliva and sweat.

His heart skipped a beat and his gaze found the celling faster than before.

Mating rituals are known by ravens. Although courting began at a very early age, Diaval never felt like doing it without feeling it was the right time to. There was never a she-raven whose wings were beautiful enough to him. While his brothers made very complicated aerial acrobatics, provoked a few wolves, and flew to find a carcass or shiny things, Diaval watched a few she-ravens from a safe distance. For the most part, they were full of mannerisms, like any other bird, and very careful with their wings.

None of them caught his eye.

Two springs later and life as an adult male was frustrating and it did hurt his heart to be alone. He could not fly anywhere because there was always a paired couple of which the territory belonged to. One night, he sighted a male raven flying to a nest. The sound of little hatchlings reached his sensitive ears and to see so much happiness around him when he did not even have a mate was very disturbing to the young raven.

He met his mistress shortly after the end of his third year without finding a mate. He had flown north, persistently, almost stubbornly, still looking for a mate in midsummer. He spent sleepless nights flying through the forest, without food, singing...but his songs were never answered.

Later in the fall, he was back to the Moors in order to find some time to figure out what was so wrong with him and perhaps to give himself another chance, this time in his birthplace.

It was when hunger hit him badly. He should have known then that the farmer had a trap waiting for him, but he is grateful for it today. He would not have met his mistress otherwise.

And as the raven he was, Diaval swore to shown his mistress infinite devotion. His duty was to please her, to keep her safe from harm. As strong and powerful his mistress might be, Diaval knew she had a fragile soul and his conscience immediately told him to protect her.

At first, it has been gratitude for saving his life. Humans have always been problematic and all he could do was caw. Of so lost he was in how many caws his lungs could express, he just noticed that he was no longer in danger when his wings were suddenly replaced by the same human hands that had almost caused his death. The sight of a dark figure caused him sudden admiration, and he knew then, by the gaze she offered him, that his life would be forever linked to hers.

But the tale tells us – " _Take from a bird its freedom and it will live for a few more springs; Take from a bird its wings and it would rather have lost its life!_ "

To understand her rage was too easy. He knew nothing about love, but betrayal was so common among animal life, and when it comes to wings, a bird is an expert.

To have your wings severed seemed cruel, the betrayal hidden through false love and hope caused by the weakness brought immense sadness and discontent. Humanity reputation has never been the best among other living beings and their cowardice came to be disgusting.

Diaval had wanted to kill the human-king. Even planned to sneak into his chambers at night and smother him with a pillow. Stab the stone he had instead of a heart. Perhaps pouring some poison in his drink while he was distracted by the queen's affections.

The birth of the child made him gave up on his plans. The little girl was so beautiful, so innocent that no warm should be imposed in her way. His mistress, huge was the jealousy in her chest, roared hate, but felt quite the opposite, as a victim of her own curse, bestowing on the child a gift that would make her beloved by all who meet her.

The fae had not realized what she had done. This fact became clear when true love's kiss was finally found and Maleficent laughed at her own foolishness.

Seeing the two of them together, however, with the young queen expounding on her life in the palace and hearing his mistress laughing at the girl's tales, made Diaval admit that it was no longer a matter of servitude. That it never had been.

And it made the bump on his throat even more painful.

Of all the species he had ever turned into, no one seemed more than ready for a family than the human.

His animal blood already burned like fire.

The _wolf_ saw his mistress as the alpha female of their _pack_.

The _dragon_ wished to wrap her with its huge wings, an intent to protect her from burning iron.

The _horse_ would love to take her for a ride through the fields.

More recently, the _raven_ had wanted to hover through the forest to look for berries to feed her.

The _human_ was intense. Parts of his body swelled at the thought of his mistress and sometimes he had to throw himself in a river to relieve the unbearable pain brought by such frustration.

Diaval never felt as attracted to anything before as he was attracted to his mistress. He never felt attracted to anything, by the way. His time as a human being was enough to modify his bird's mind and now he knew lust, waiting nothing more than to throw his mistress in the nest and caress her perfect cheekbones, nip at her funny pointy ears, comb the locks of her smooth hair, kiss her perfect lips. The sight of her lying in a nest he had built especially for her – thinking of her – filled his heart with wild instincts.

And as time passed, the world seemed to be conspiring against him – to make him feel worse than _scum_.

Last summer, after paying a visit to his hatchling, namely the Queen, Diaval flew over the human market to see if he could find something shiny to present his mistress with. Upon entering an empty barn, he came across something he never thought he would see: a human couple _mating_. Well, _mating_ was not how they called _it_ , but for a bird the name of it did not matter at all. He did not stay to see how _it_ ended, but so big was his surprise that it paralysed him by the longest twenty seconds of his life before he opened his wings and flew away. To make things really bad, when he returned to the nest, to his mistress, his mind began to torture him in his dreams.

Diaval felt ashamed of such improper thoughts toward the fae who had given him so much. He tried to stop them many times, but only her peaceful expression while asleep made his heart beat faster.

He wished to be brave and to tell her how he felt _._ Yet hurting her was the last thought on his mind, so he focused on what he had, and was grateful for it. He cleaned up his mind and made his soul to forget about his cravings.

At this very moment, for example, he focused on food. His mistress had skipped her morning meal and it was his duty to provide her anything – as a servant shall do to his mistress…And any self-respectful male would do to his mate.

So, Diaval chose to leave. He made the first move, in a slow but determined way, by taking his mistress's hand in his and placing it on his coat-…well, now a pillow. He then gave her a good look, to see any signs of movement. While her face barely showed any chances of waking up, her body did, and as soon as she seemed to notice the lack of warmth, one of her wings stretched out and gradually involved his body.

If only to torture any further, the fae now had her face buried on the crock of his neck, and when her calm breathing contacted his bare skin, her scent of roses penetrated his nostrils, the sweet taste of her mouth reproduced itself in his tongue, exceeding the sweetness of the honey.

Diaval held back a groan, wishing to face an army again. At least he would know how to behave. Wouldn't he? He did not know. How could a raven face an army not even knowing how to escape temptation itself? It was like being caught under a net again, no ropes to trap him but perfect feathers breaking his heart. His mind still held some sense, screaming at him not to do what his heart desired.

He had to stop…And to prevent any embarrassments.

Waking her up crossed his mind instantly. However, the raven-man couldn't help but think that his mistress deserved to sleep a little longer, even knowing that she would be furious at him for letting her sleep for so long.

" _Maleficent..._ "

Then, when he seemed to have forgotten of his duties, the fae herself, as if sensing the desperation of his whisper, woke up from her hopefully happy dreams, placing her tired eyes on his tense figure and whispered:

" _Diaval...?_ "

His heart was filled with inexplicable joy, and his eyes instantly falling upon his mistress' sleepy eyes as his mind lost itself in the voices of his head.

The results were enthusiastic greetings.

" _Good morning, mistress_!"

Maleficent's wings twitched slightly at the sound of his voice. She smiled, showing a bit of satisfaction, and not so surprisingly turned her back to him, reached out for his coat and buried her face on it, claws grabbing at the tricky fabric. Her wings now faced him, involving their owner's body.

Diaval could only stare. Was she sleeping again?

"What is it, birdie?"

The raven-man was caught off guard at the nickname. He frowned.

"The sun is high in the sky, mistress." He said. "I am to fly and find food. Is there anything of your preference I should be aware of on this morning?"

To his annoyance, his mistress actually chuckled, looking over her shoulder, green eyes sporting amusement by his question.

"The birdie is out for hunting, then?"

It was Diaval's turn to chuckle before such question.

" _Serving,_ mistress."

The fae's now bright smile held the once common mischievously for a few more seconds as Maleficent let her eyes search on his face for something she didn't know. Finding a plane frown, her grin failed herself, until there was nothing left but a forced smile, and then, she turned to face the wall before her eyes closed, and a soft tired sigh left her lips. In the end, the Guardian of the Moors sat up in the nest, fingers finding her hair.

Diaval watched her in plane confusion. He had to look around to assure that he was not missing something, that he had not said the wrong thing. His mind had no ideas. Her back was still to him and her wings were protectively wrapped around her shoulders, as if in healing her wounds.

"Mistress–"

She didn't let him finish, "We already had this conversation, Diaval. You know as much that I'm not incapable of feeding myself."

 _Now_ he was offended.

"You think I'm not capable for the task?"

Maleficent raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say that."

"So will you tell me of what do you wish to eat?"

Her shoulders fell slightly in defeat and her eyes were quickly fixed in a random spot of the nest. His eyes followed her gaze. The spot was empty.

"How long..." Her voice sounded different. Diaval decided not to comment on the reasons for it, yet. "...For how long have we slept?"

On the other hand, his voice now exuded concern, "A few hours long, I think."

Maleficent waited a moment, "I see..." She whispered in a breath loud enough to reach his ears, making him unable to hold his tongue any longer.

"Is there something wrong, mistress?"

Silence was the answer he needed.

No longer shy, his hand rested on her shoulder – he was worried. The contact of the cold skin of his long fingers against the fae's warm skin made look at him, and her wings retracted instinctively. The slight darkness made her eyes useless, increasing her instincts in way that made her feel her servant's closeness and the smell of berries from his breath. The sound of a heart beating so amicably close, showing feelings she was not used to, made a blush to cover her cheeks.

"Mistress-"

"I'm fine." There was a beating sound against her ears. She swallowed hard, an attempt to calm herself down. It did not work as she expected, so she looked away from that pair of dark prying eyes.

A frown formed on Diaval's face, his heart beating in anticipation at seeing the distress written over his mistress' beautiful face. "Have you not slept well?" He then asked, his voice showing infinite patience and unconditional love, persistent and prominent feelings he had developed over the years.

Maleficent, on the other hand, was blatantly ignorant to those feelings.

"I said I'm fine, Diaval. There is no need for worrying yourself." Maleficent then said, not even bothering herself to spare her servant a mere glance. All this trouble caused her shoulders to give into the weight of the years, and she found consolation on distracting herself by letting her fingers play with the branches of the nest, trying to focus on aligning some of them.

Diaval, on the other hand, was never so annoyed at her stubbornness.

"You shouldn't ask for the impossible, mistress. You know I worry...And you don't seem fine to me."

The fae snorted, "It's not up to you to presume how I feel." and although her voice sounded harsh, her words lacked coldness.

In turn, Diaval reminded her of an important fact:

"I've known you for some time, mistress. Your well-fare has great importance to me."

Maleficent's eyes softened considerably in affection and appreciation.

"You worry far too much."

Finally, Diaval saw a smile return to her lips.

"And you're far too much stubborn, mistress."

By hearing this, Maleficent dared to look into his eyes, only to feel known feelings cross through her heart as dark onyxes were caught inspecting bright emeralds shamelessly.

Blood washed over her usually stead heart, making it beat faster, and she took a deep breath to calm down herself. She moved her eyes away and tried to think of something that wasn't the unquestioned excitement inside her chest. It was quite a difficult task, especially when the reason of her dreams and more confused thoughts was right there in the nest, as she wished he would always be.

"You shouldn't have left me sleeping for so long." Her scarred voice shook her mind off few insecurities. "Why have you?"

"You were tired." He answered. The fae opened her mouth to protest but the raven-man didn't let her: he took her hand in his, by consequence making her finally take notice on how close he was now. It made her loss of words, for it didn't cease to amaze her how the warmth of his eyes could soothe her fears. Her heart was filled with joy and she couldn't prevent another smile to appear; a smile the raven-man returned. "You _sound_ tired, mistress. Don't deny it... _Again_. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while longer? Let me worry about the rest. I promise that no one shall disturb you today."

And though the idea seemed so appealing, Maleficent shook her head. "Diaval-"

"Oh, why am I even asking? We had this conversation before." He grinned as he repeated her words. " _No, no, no, no_. I do it. Lay down and sleep. You need it."

The fae frowned. "You do, too."

"It will be no problem, neither the first time. You must sleep, mistress. You have not last night, and the Moors needs its guardian to be as healthy as possible!"

"Should not be her servant as well?" She dared to ask.

"I'm fine. And rested." He added with a smile. "No need to worry."

Maleficent eyed him wryly, raising an eyebrow at his use of her own words. But he seemed sure of what he wanted, so concerned for her health, that it ended up with her giving him some credit, concealing in letting him do as he pleased, which was totally different from what a mistress should do to her servant. But, upon gazing back at the nest, the pang of loneliness turned to attack her heart, that of so fearful of nightmares, made her eyes travel back to Diaval's handsome features for what seemed to be hours before they bored into his own eyes, and her lips formed words able to take the air from his lungs – and that, to any rational mind, implied explicit lust:

"Won't you rather stay here with me?"

Diaval immediately felt a heavy and aggressive air grow around him. But he eyes never left hers.

"Mistress-"

"Are you hungry?" She watched him closely. She didn't seem to really understand what she had implied in her previous question…which almost sounded like a sensual plea.

Either way, Diaval knew he would have problems if she didn't stop gazing at him that way – the innocent and beautiful way he found so tempting.

"I-I'm not." He managed to say. "But this is about you."

"I have magic, Diaval."

The glare he immediately offered her was so adorable that it made Maleficent smile fondly at him. She was almost laughing. She knew her words would make him mad, and it would be even more entertaining if only she knew why he got mad at her, to begin with.

"You promised you wouldn't."

In fact, she hadn't exactly. It was something he self-proclaimed once, a long time ago, when finishing building her…their nest in the ruins. He was the servant and she was his mistress. He would provide her with all she needed, although she didn't speak of such needs most of times. The deal was actually letting him do the job without any use of magic. He apparently liked to be ordered around – and by her, of all people.

It was, from her point of view, a stupid way of living. Any creature, specially a bird, would see the skies and freedom as the most precious of things, after its wings, of course. Yet, it was a way of having him around all the time. At that, Maleficent never complained of his services, but her conscience kept telling her that freedom was to come sooner or later.

Perhaps it will be easier than what she may think...If only he stopped looking at her with such puppy eyes. Gods, how could he, by the way? The innocence of his eyes shouted at anyone's face that he wasn't doing it on purpose, that he didn't knew of the effects he had on her, effects she knew she could barely resist.

But at least, Maleficent tried to keep herself from being beyond bold – she couldn't touch him. They were too close, of course, sitting in a warm and cosy nest. It was the perfect opportunity for lust to take over. But she wouldn't allow it. Diaval was innocent. He was like a child. She would never abuse of his kindness.

Even if she wanted to give in so much.

"You may go then."

Maleficent waved her wrist so magic would leave her hands and turn her nightgown into a dark blue robe. Once the spell was performed, she slid her hands over the fabric, smoothing its wrinkles.

Diaval let his eyes travelled thought his mistress' gown as she pretended not to know he was there. He loved blue.

"Won't you go?"

He recognized the ultimate sign of tiredness when his mistress directed her gaze to the window. She used to do that when cornered or uncomfortable. He had never wanted to disturb or pressure her to talk to him before but now he realized how foolish he had been.

"You are not happy."

She wasn't.

"You want to go, don't you? So do it. Don't complain, birdie. I can change my mind if you want, and conjure a tree-"

That made it. An inexplicable force took over his mind and heart, making Diaval move in thunderous speed and use all his agility to hold her wrist, making her stop talking. Her eyes, in turn, widened slightly, and ploughed at him, clearly confused and a little perplexed.

Diaval swallowed, realizing what he had done. He felt the air from his lungs disappear in disruptive and silent seconds, but he used his braveness to look at her in the eye.

It really took Maleficent out off guard.

"Diaval-"

"Forgive me for my selfless." He whispered faintly, letting go her wrist quickly. His gaze fell down. His sudden shyness was evident. "I know you are capable of anything. I'm the very proof of it. I cannot forget my place. But not to do my work is a bother, and yet, if you wish me to stay, I will stay. As long as you need me."

" _Why_?" She had to ask. She was so confused, and to express so, she made sure to take his chin and make him look into her eyes. "You are indeed foolish."

Diaval's eyes did not change. There was something hidden, something she could not quite decipher.

"Vain birdie." She concluded with a smirk.

"Of that I'm certain." He made use sarcasm this time. "What do you wish for?"

_A kiss.  
_

"Blueberries." Her choice was rather random, to be honest. "And apples."

"I'll be back soon." He then smiled at her, and unknown to him was the strong beat of her heart. Unknown to her was also the happiness she could place on him.

They were foolish, they were blind, loving one another without the knowledge of doing so. And once comfortable silence was established between them, as much as mutual understanding, the curtains were opened. The raven-man had to protect his eyes from the bright light, but soon it became too soothing to his soul that it made him sigh.

"I'll be waiting by the lake." Said the fae, and her servant nodded, later turning into a raven to throw himself in the skies and leave the nest, his mistress and his cravings behind.

Maleficent could just observe him fading away and not even the beastie's tears when she found out about the curse could rival the deception on the fae's face. For her dreams were no more foolish than the raven she now watched flying, and of whom soon would be free from the debt of servitude and friendship. And perhaps, such act would turn out to be the relief she needed, the freedom from the worries of passion...and the existence of another _true unrequired love_.

 


	3. Nightmares of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love was real, she knew - a joy to be savoured by many creatures, and Maleficent couldn't see herself as one of them.
> 
> She never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I'm alive, after just recovering from an infection. College has also taking most of my time, so I'm very sorry for the delay.
> 
> This chapter is by far one of the hardest I ever wrote, and to edit it, I took a few weeks. Not because it is long - fr it is not. But I had somewhat of a block regarding the plot. It's over now, thank God.
> 
> Anyway, I truly hope you enjoy!

The sun was strong and steady in the sky when Maleficent reached the lake.  
  
She didn’t notice time passing by, and when it came to her, it had been almost two hours since she and Diaval had parted ways. She was not worried about his delay, because Diaval used to take time on whatever things he did. In fact, she was relieved because she needed to be alone. She left her nest in a hurry after her servant's departure, and did not care much about the thunder roaring above her head.  
  
The creatures of the Moors worried, and the beginning of another day that sounded quiet ended when the clouds darkened rapidly, pouring water everywhere. In what seemed to be seconds, the land of the Moors was already covered by rain.  
  
Animals and magical beings then returned to their homes. Small fireplaces provided warmth and light, revealing flowers adorning the walls of wood and moss, exuding happiness, wealth, and lack of concern. The creatures thanked the gods and their young queen for all this. There was no war against humans, and therefore their offspring would be born into a kingdom of justice and goodness.  
  
They only wanted their guardian to keep their mind in the same state of peace, so perhaps the hurricane of the emotions within their heart did not reflect in the weather.  
  
However, they were surprised to see her flying away from her nest directly into the rain.  
  
The fae ignored the water soaking her wings, and when she couldn’t go any further, she flew down the forest, hovering over the trees. She landed on an old tree, hidden between two oaks on the shores of the lake. Once she found herself under thousands of leaves, she stretched her wings to dry them and sat down on, waiting. Drops of water hit her powerful cheeks once in a while, replacing the tears in her heart.  
  
The fae did nothing to stop them. She barely moved. She only allowed the water wash her skin while her wings served as a blanket of feathers, ready to protect her from the unknown.  
  
She had no intention of leaving the shadows. The silence was surprising and the feelings in her were scary.  
  
Thoughts terrified her. _Her servant..._ only her servant could make the pain disappear, and again, he could make everything worse at once.  
  
Fortunately or not, it had not been a nightmare this time, but the most beautiful of dreams. Her servant was the cause. Sleeping in his arms felt so right, but left room for uncomfortable desires. But how to let yourself forget when it came to something almost within your reach, and yet so far away?  
  
For the vision of little fairies was remarkable, beautiful, warm, and many other good things, but to think of their ebony wings and emerald eyes, shining at her, and to know that all this would never be more than a dream, the most foolish of all, brought disturbing and confusing feelings to her heart, causing terrible sensations.  
  
She thought of them as real, as a part of herself that didn’t even exist. They entered the ruins flying. She knew what they had eaten by the blue marks on their faces and fingers. Somehow, they found enough blueberries to feed them. She scolded them for eating too much, but when they showed the basket they had brought, full of blue and red berries, she could not help but smile at them – her little ones. Her mate arrived then, smiling at their young. Something told her it might have been his idea. She kissed him and lay down in the nest, her swollen womb just allowing her to move little.  
  
Her mate lay down next to her and his arms wrapped around her. Soon the moon was in the sky and their children were sleeping in their own nest, next to their parents, the basket already empty due to their hungry mouths. She shivered as a breeze hit the curtains. Her little ones had a red blanket over them, shielding them from the cold, and she had her mate. She hugged him, sighing against his neck.  
  
His face was the first thing she saw before realizing that all had been but an illusion—another _impossible_ dream.  
  
She wanted to tell herself that it didn’t bother her. That her heart didn’t sink down at the small glimpse of a pair of elves entering their tree home filled with the joy brought by a numerous offspring while that special corner of her nest was empty—regarding the epithet _loneliness._  
  
She could deny it, but with her mind struggling with the inevitable, her dreams only confirmed the most secret desires of her heart.  
  
It was a long lost dream of a fae who had always been alone. She never expected to find herself a mate, but with mating season demanding some action, finding someone that would offer her the family she never had was rather unlikely. When she could not find another like her, Stefan ignited the flame of hope in her heart.  
  
And how foolish of her was to assume that a human would love a fae.  
  
She could even say that he had never taken pleasure in the few kisses they had shared, but she was so absorbed in the future, in the family that she might have with him, that she did not bother to notice that his eyes betrayed the lies spoken by his mouth.  
  
Times like these made her regret not having loved the little beastie when she was a child. She was so lost in hatred and revenge that she didn’t allow herself to think about what a stolen motherhood could provide her. A chance like no other, and likely to return when Aurora became a mother, and perhaps Maleficent could love and care for her...god-grandchildren.  
  
Still, while the thought was comforting, it was not enough to make her happy. It did not soothe her heart anymore.  
  
Maleficent wanted her a _family of her own_ —a mate to love her and an offspring whom both would love and protect. They would feed them, bathe them and help them control their magic. They would play with them and teach them the art of flying. She could even see them asking their father to preen their wings or tell a story before bed and it was beautiful, the acceptance she had sought her entire life and...who knew that in a foolish raven she would finally find it?  
  
A life without him was...well, she didn’t want to think about it. The mere thought of seeing him building a nest for another— _of seeing him loving another_ —made her blood boil with jealousy. That foolish raven was her wings, the reason behind the best feelings within her soul and the kindness her magic could provide, and she did not care how selfish she sounded—she did not want to lose him; she could not lose him. She trusted him with her life and there was nothing she would not do to be brave and just tell him what she was feeling.  
  
_But what would he say?_  
  
Diaval had never made his desires known to her nor to anyone, although he was very talkative if given the chance. Not that she expected him to  trust her with his secrets, but she wondered what he might had felt all those years of servitude. For Maleficent was no fool, she was quite aware of the effects her actions had on her servant – Diaval had a life before her, he had dreams – and she destroyed everything while pursing her stupid revenge.  
  
It had been two years since the end of her curse, so what now?  
  
Now mating season plagued her mind and heart and soul and if even someone like, so used of being alone, felt that need of having a family, how does Diaval feel?  
  
_What does he want?_  
  
It would be _undeniable_ cruel, she knew, to keep him with herself to make her night easier to bear. He was a bird, but she had gifted him with a human mind – he had feelings and thoughts, just like any other talking living creature.  
  
And if anyone deserved a family, it was him.  
  
_But would he choose her?_  
  
_Why would he?_  
  
Despite several signs, Maleficent did not want to believe that her servant saw her as worthy of his love. She was not completely blind to his devotion, but he also cared deeply for Aurora, whom he referred kindly as his hatchling, so his feelings for his mistress could be anything, not necessarily the romantic love she once professed for Stefan.  
  
Maleficent was never to deny the obvious— _or at least that's what she keeps telling herself_ —and her mind also said she should settle for what she had, for though Diaval was her wings, she didn't have own his heart.  
  
_Mistress_ , perhaps _friend_ , would be the highest title she could, no, that she should wait and that should satisfy her in many ways.  
  
And it did, in a way. Diaval was to be with her all the time. He was to please her as the servant he was, and to make her smile. He was supposed to hold her at night, and Maleficent had to admit that she took advantage of it. Obviously, she'd never touched him improperly – to disrespect him was the last thought in her mind, but to enjoy of his warmth was not a misdeed, was it?  
  
She simply loved him as much as she did Aurora. They were her true love, and Maleficent wanted them close. However, the thought of having both as her family, officially speaking, seemed to be a very distant and frightening thought. Aurora was her little daughter, and the bond they shared would last forever.  
  
_But Diaval…_  
  
He was so much more than anything she ever thought of having, so much more than a friend. His mind was intelligent, his spirit was pure, his bravery was never to be questioned, and his eyes reminded her of the night sky, but darker than the darkness itself. His eyes were so expressive that they could reveal his soul and her dreams were to dive into this dark sea, for she never dared to do so. Fairies are known to be terrible liars when it comes to feelings. Maleficent knew she had never really convinced anyone of her wickedness, and Diaval had always reminded her of it. If she looked into his eyes, he would know the desires of her soul and...and...to wait for a positive reaction to her feelings would be stupid!  
  
The unknown, the fear of rejection, was like a huge weight on her shoulders, overwhelming her heart more than ever, and she preferred not to know such thoughts than to face a truth that would crush her soul. She did not want to guess nor risk it. Having him around, even if it was not to have him as her mate, was more than she deserved. With him close, she could protect him, a promise made by her heart. No evil would come upon the raven whose wings were the definition of faithfulness. Not while she lived, at least. A silly thought, of course, since she knew the powers inside the raven, a gift from her, but she could not help but worry. He was so very important to her. Aurora stole what was left of a broken heart, but Diaval healed a broken soul and then stole it to himself.  
  
Maleficent closed her eyes in a sigh, but the air inside her lungs burned her chest. Only her pride prevented the tears, so continuous and usually painful, from falling. Then she let the rain wash her face, and her sadness joined the earth.  
  
_Love_ was real, she knew—a joy to be savoured by many creatures, and Maleficent couldn't see herself as one of them.  
  
She never did.  
  
_"Mistress!"_  
  
The fae's eyes widened at the call of her beloved, then bursting into tears with the insistent reminder that she had no right to call him that way.  
  
Sighing, she climbed down the tree and walked slowly to the edges of the lake, and her own image was projected into the waters while a man's silhouette sat beside her, young and handsome, and a beautiful basket was in his hands.  
  
How he got the basket she did not know, but the smell of berries was strong and sweet.  
  
"There you are, mistress." He was clearly proud of his work, but she still didn't look at him, as the sight of herself and the raven man in the water caught her eye. The wind reached the lake, and its reflections mingled, and they became a single image, and in the face of such a vision his heart broke even more.  
  
Diaval was not unaware of her silence, and his smile disappeared as his eyes fell back into the reflections on the waters. He frowned, unable to decipher the expression on his mistress's face, but he felt that her behaviour was not the kindest.  
  
"Mistress..." He whispered in a soothing voice, and his eyes met hers in the waters. "Did something happen while I was away?"  
  
And even in the midst of all her sadness and frustration, Maleficent didn't expect to hear this kind of question.  
  
"You speak as I wouldn't know how to handle them." She commented, still not looking at him.  
  
"I meant no offence, mistress." Diaval said. "But I worry, when it comes to...some creatures. They do know how to be very ungrateful."  
  
And although Maleficent couldn't deny he was right on that matter, she insisted, "This is not about them, Diaval." She wanted with all her heart to be able to tell him what was devouring her soul from within, to tell him what all this was about.  
  
She couldn't.  
  
He deserved better.  
  
"You promise?"  
  
Maleficent glanced to the raven man, to caught him watching her carefully with narrowed eyes, his head tiled his to the side.  
  
The fae felt like smiling. That bird was totally adorable.  
  
"Yes, Diaval. I wouldn't lie—" She stopped in middle sentence for two reasons: because she knew she would be lying, quite ironically; and by the glance her servant offered her, reminding her of the times when she would lie shamelessly - especially when it came to be about her love for the little beastie. "Often." She admitted, and pursed her lips, irritated with herself. "But not this time, I promise."  
  
Finally, a smile returned to the raven man's face, "I found this." He showed her a straw basket in his hands. Coming from some farm, she was sure, since he loved to ignore her orders just as she avoided ordering him anything. Apples and berries and fresh bread, all very lovely, if she felt like eating anything, disregarding the complaints of the stomach.  
  
"You didn't have to do that." She heard herself thinking too out loud, and the sadness in her voice didn't surprise her.  
  
Diaval glared at her, bothered by her new ways of thinking, "I am your servant. That's what I'm here for."  
  
_Is that all?_ An angry voice screamed in her head. _Couldn't they be more? Why couldn't they be more? Why the gods tortured her with another love she cannot have?_

"Now, eat." Diaval took an apple and cleaned it in the waters of the lake, and then offered it to his mistress.  
  
The fae grimaced and turned her face toward the lake, suddenly hating herself. She didn't feel like eating.  
  
"Maybe later." And then, her gaze was lost in the reflection in the waters again, getting lost in what couldn't be.  
  
"Mistress, please." Diaval insisted, placing the straw basket on her lap.  
  
Maleficent sighed wearily, hating that her servant was right. "Fine." She surrendered and took the apple that her servant had offered her and took a bite. It took another bite for hunger to take over, and within minutes she'd devoured two apples, a handful of berries and a few slices of bread.  
  
In the end, Diaval was smiling proudly at her.  
  
Maleficent, in turn, felt like a foolish child.  
  
"What shall we do today, mistress?" She heard Diaval ask then, and silently wait for instructions, looking intently at her.  
  
The fae usually had a busy day. She has always been obsolete in her planning. She was a very organized person, and always had her chores prepared beforehand. She also hated being taken by surprise, for very understandable reasons. However, that would result in more dreams that she wasn't yet ready to face. She would probably never be, because they were too painful for being so impossible, and she saw no hope of seeing them disappear, for if she was near her servant, she would be cursed by dreams of a beautiful but unreal life. But if she was away from him, she knew she would be in despair, like a bird locked in a cage hanging in the edges of a window.  
  
Truth be told, she was already in despair. For if she were honest with herself, if she were more selfish than usual, if she paid attention to her deepest desires, she would simply go back to her nest and sleep until she no longer knew who she was. Of course, if she really listened to even deeper desires, she and her servant would go back to their nest together in the ruins and from there, they wouldn't leave so soon. There, he would take her as his mate; there, she would give herself to him; there, they would know each other as only lovers do, and nothing else would matter, for there, they would be together and there was nothing else she wanted in life than to be with him forever.  
  
Maleficent looked up to the skies. She was never the one to neglect her duties, and it wouldn't be fair to the inhabitants of the land of the Moors if she did, but her mind couldn't do anything. She was psychologically drained, she was sure of that. She wasn't in the mood to solve any problems, if there was one. She could go on with her patrols, but soon she would be distracted, annoyed or angered, and that would result in someone getting hurt, and she wouldn't allow that happen.  
  
But could the Guardian of the Moors take a day off?  
  
"I don't know."  
  
It took Diaval about ten seconds to realize that his question had been answered. When he did, he looked at his mistress in amazement.  
  
"You...you don't?"  
  
Maleficent still had her gaze turned toward the lake, but this time, no longer on the reflection in the waters, but on the creatures that bathed in there.  
  
"The Moors don't seem to need my help any longer." She said.  
  
Diaval, still trying to decipher the thoughts lost in his mistress' mind, said, "After rain? They can either be in their homes or complaining around."  
  
Maleficent snorted, "They always did that, Diaval. Rain or not."  
  
"And you get angry," Diaval concluded, and Maleficent frowned, not understanding where her servant's reasoning was heading, "I don''t blame you. It's pretty annoying."  
  
The fae sighed, tired, "And how to solve it?" She asked.  
  
Diaval shrugged,  "Ignore them. It's not your problem."  
  
Maleficent felt time stop around her. Then, she turned to her servant, staring in bewilderment. Diaval could be anything—foolish, stubborn, a bit arrogant, but he was not sloppy.  
  
"As Guardian of the Moors, any conflicts are my responsibility." Maleficent spoke. "You know that as much as I do."  
  
The raven man folded his arms, "But what if you are in conflict?"  
  
"I'm not—" Her breath became uneven, and she turned her gaze again to the creatures of the lake. "I'm not." She insisted stubbornly, more to her troubled mind than to her servant. It was as if the fear of surrendering to her desires was to be aware of reason, and she had to remember that, as wonderful as her dreams might be, they would be no more than impassable nonsense to become unbelievable.  
  
"Mistress." Her servant, however, was not blind to her afflictions, even if he didn't understand that he was the reason for her most disturbing and, at the same time, most beautiful dreams. But Diaval would always be there to help her when needed, even though she didn't know what to do. "The rain came suddenly. And your wings are full of leaves and branches," He commented casually, and Maleficent felt her heart explode inside her chest. "You... _caused_ the rain and flew into it. Then, you hid in the trees."  
  
And clearly, he knew how to decipher her actions like an expert, as a forest god who had participated in her birth, creating flaws and virtues that only he could identify.  
  
And she, hostage to his prying eyes, could do nothing to keep him, her beloved, from being there with her to torment her fears.  
  
And well, it wasn't like she wanted him to leave, anyway.  
  
She was, as we all know, a rather selfish fae.  
  
"Do you wish me to preen your wings?"  
  
For a moment, Maleficent felt her muscles tighten and her chest gasp, such was her agony. Her wings moved involuntarily, and she feared that Diaval could understand what made her so nervous.  
  
After all, why would she be so surprised? It wouldn't be the first time he had preened her wings. In fact, there was nothing else he could do to her that was kinder. His hands were far better than any spell, probably because they took time in perfection and dedication. He was so gentle with her wings, so loving, so unlike Stefan, always asking if she felt safe while he touched her.  
  
Would he ever see that all her fears and insecurities would disappear just because he was there with her?  
  
As much she couldn't see how Diaval loved her wings. That her wings always made him feel strange inside, and his breathing sometimes was caught in his throat, for her feathers were even more dazzling in the sunlight, and he couldn't be happier because he was the one to touch them without reservation.  
  
How then could they deny themselves so much?  
  
"My wings?" She finally found her voice, and there were more doubts hidden.  
  
In return, Diaval just smiled, knowing how to read her eyes than herself, "If you allow me, mistress." And his hand moved slowly and dangerously close to her wings, his eyes always watching hers, looking for some sign of fear. In fact, fear was what he saw in her eyes, but not from him, never him, but things he couldn't understand. And when he finally slid his fingers through the feathers of her wings, the fae closed her eyes and sighed, surrendering to him.  
  
Indeed, Maleficent would always end up sleepy, sighing with satisfaction and need and desire, and she would have to close her eyes because of the same need and desire.  
  
At every touch, with every involuntary reaction of her wings to his soft touch, she loved him even more and her heart burned.  
  
A sad smile spread over her lips, for though she couldn't stop the happiness from having her wings preened by the one she loved, she also hated herself for allowing him to be so close when what she really needed was the opposite.  
  
However, she couldn't miss a last chance to have him so close, and while her heart was bleeding from rejection, she openly allowed herself to enjoy so intimately the touch of the man she loved.  
  
Even if for one last time before releasing him from his servitude.  
  
"Mistress...wake up."  
  
And when she found herself again in his arms, lying by the edges of the lake, images of little faes playing like flashes before her more recent memories, and she was already crying so desperately that Diaval almost jumped.  
  
"Mistress—"  
  
"...thank you." He heard her then, and his voice was so broken that Diaval felt guilty.  
  
"Whatever for, mistress? What happened?" He then asked, unsure whether he had done anything wrong.  
  
The singing of two birds caught their attention and both flying creatures had their eyes on the heavens, astonished by the beautiful day before them.  
  
"...I'm sorry." It was her reply, and Diaval blinked, surprised when he finally noticed the tears falling from his mistress' eyes, and he suddenly wished he was not so used to seeing her cry.  
  
"Mistress..." was what left his lips, and Maleficent forgot her fears and snuggled her face into his neck, not seeking comfort as so often, but hiding from visions she did not want to face—a world of sins and the wickedness and loneliness she had already grown tired of. Diaval merely held her, his fingers playing with feathers at the base of her wings.  
  
With her eyes closed, Maleficent allowed herself to surrender and tears washed her soul. Diaval brought her against his body, his arms firmly around her, and his own heart crushed painfully, for he felt useless for not knowing what to do.  
  
"Tell me, mistress." He whispered against her hair. It smelled as sweet as the berries he had just harvest for her. "Tell me what makes you so scared. Tell me what's bothering you and I'll do anything to make it go away."  
  
And although Maleficent wanted to, she was no braver than him, and more tears fell, and her deliberation was simple—he saved her once. He and Aurora saved her from herself.  
  
Now it was time to free him from herself.  
  
_For I love you, my dearest raven, I love you so much. I could never bear to imprison you._  
  
"Mistress..." Diaval's breathing became ragged and swift. He was beginning to feel desperate.  
  
"Hold me." She hugged him tight, breathing in his essence. "Hold me, birdie."  
  
They stayed like this until the end of the day and beyond. When, however, lying in the nest, Maleficent watched her servant sleep soundly beside her, she allowed herself to take advantage of this last moment of warmth, before she left the ruins forever.  
  
And when Diaval woke up the next morning, alone and distressed, disoriented by his mistress' absence, he felt the same emptiness as before when he met her, when he was only a bird without a family, flying alone in search of a mate.  
  
And without understanding, he flew away, looking for the one whose his heart had chosen.  
  
But he didn't find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next chapter will come soon, I promise! 
> 
> It is almost ready, in fact.
> 
> See ya!


	4. The Queen of the Moors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maleficent is a mess, Diaval is missing and Aurora tries to help as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I really wasn't expecting people to enjoy this story that much. THANK YOU GUYS!
> 
> And I'm sorry for the delay. My life is a mess.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

 

To say Maleficent didn't try to sleep was an understatement—a foolish one.

She didn't even consider it. Her world turned blue, so cold and frightening and foreign. Broken—as on the years after the betrayal.

One may think the worst memory of her heart was the one following the betrayal—the lack of a blanket of feathers to envelop her body, shielding her skin against the crispy wind of winter, the pain burning her bones unmercifully while judgement flashed before her thoughts endlessly.

One also is very wrong.

For a lifetime, Maleficent questioned the nature of her existence. She was unique, the perfect resemblance of darkness and light, so powerful and willing, yet so alone—one of a kind. No magical creature dared to know her, to give her a chance of proving her worth.

And so, _love_ became out of question. She stopped hoping. Prevented herself from heartbreak. She guarded her soul with coldness, and her few moments of kindness were those when caring for her people. When even them turned away, she didn't blame them. She would reject herself, if she could.

Looking at the skies became painful because the wind was the only consolation Maleficent, the hybrid, would ever had.

To lose her wings was not about the loss of her freedom, but to be slapped on both cheeks, to be screamed at— _you'll never have a famil_ y—and only then, she felt betrayed...by herself.

Because she dared opening her heart, hoping for a life of love and peace and passion...and she was so foolish. She hated herself more than she did to Stefan. Because, _"How could you be so stupid? Wasn't obvious no magical creature or human would consider a hybrid as an option?"_

Now, it felt like it didn't matter. Nightmares wouldn't plague her mind—and she doubt they ever would—because she just knew she was never sleeping again.

Her wings hugged her, yet it brought little comfort—for what was the use of having wings if you can only fly alone?

Back to her old tree, she watched the stars travel the skies and between tears and sighs, the sun was back into the skies again. Spring would progress, as time and nature would ask for it, and nothing would change; nothing would improve—and no, she wasn't in the place to deny that, neither was stupid enough to it. Still, no one said it was fair—finding out how amazing true love can be like, and knowing you'll never have it.

Sometimes, she wished to find the courage to face such true, much for her dismay and...anger, dare I say? She did try at all costs to divert her thoughts from this need—the painful longing, the hope of expecting for...more. She did what she must not to think about it. Because it would be easier to acknowledge the truth rather than living a lie which hoping actually was—in her case, anyway.

She also wasn't surprised when she felt Diaval flying to her. She literally felt his— _her_ —magic, and she left before she could his desperate calls.

It was unfair too, because she knew the poor bird would arrive at her old tree and glance at her empty spot with sad eyes, confused not be spoken to, not to be allowed to spend his nights with her, but what else she could do if not to avoid him? His debt was paid—it had been for over two years now and although Maleficent had never touched on the subject, she knew it was implied that he no longer needed to be there for her. He wasn't bond to her and she had to use herself to a life without his constant presence.

Because he wasn't _hers_ to claim, and however the need to love and hope and dream was there—that's it, just impossible things, unfulfilled wishes.

She landed by a forgotten canon, away from everything that might remind her of anything she ever wanted. The place reminded her of herself—bleak, silent, cold.

_Empty of life._

She was used to be lonely. She wasn't saying it wasn't evidently horrible, for it was, very much so, but what to expect from the only remaining fae?

She sighed again, and closed her eyes, internally wishing to hear the calling of her beloved.

She didn't.

He hadn't found her this time. She suspected he hadn’t even try to follow her. He got the message. She wasn't happy by it, but she was glad that silly raven was free from the burden, that he was to love whomever he wished to. And she was glad she wouldn't be there to see it.

 _Selfish_ , I suppose, but that's who she is—an evil creature.

And she only wished be loved—which was _very_ selfish, she thought to herself, and allowed the tears to wash her face at the song of the birds in favour to mating season.

She laid down, staring at the moist walls of a cave hidden behind a waterfall. Like flying, _sleeping_ was supposed to allow her to forget, to pretend that her dreams were just thoughts insisting on playing with her feelings, not torturing her with the love she couldn't have.

One may ask _why_.

The answer was hard on her.

She had just walked away from the man she loved.

Her mind screamed— _you love him_ —and she sobbed openly, creating echoes of what had happened, her heart bleeding, and there was that specific rebellion, as if she could kill someone in the most creative and cruel way, if only to appease her soul's cries.

She couldn't, as no one would pay for her hatred anymore. But she would be lying if she said everything wouldn't inevitably end up in anger—and fear and sadness and envy. For the more she couldn't prevent the darkness of her heart, the more it had new ways of provocation, despise not being in control anymore, as she still had the princess' love, and that should suffice for now, as she always forced herself to think.

 _Useless_ , her mind told her, and she could do nothing but agree.

And here between us—only time would tell how badly such denial state would prevail.

But not for how longer.

 

* * *

 

_A few days later..._

 

 

On the day before Aurora was about to turn eighteen, Maleficent fled from the Moors to meet up with the young queen. Diaval wasn't with her, but she could feel his presence nearby.

He hadn’t try to follow her, and she made of that hidden cave her new home, the cold and humid ground being replaced by several flowers and leaves. By far, it wasn’t even close to the luxurious nest Diaval had once built to her—them—but the sound of the waterfall was rewarding.

Which means her nightmares were still there, but being able to wash her face in the cool, refreshing water, she would tremble, and for a few moments she would forget the dreams about three little souls that would never exist—Anton, Izaak and Lor.

From their...father, Diaval, she listened to many things. Moorish creatures talked a lot about anything, especially water fairies, and any rumour would spread quickly.

Maleficent knew Diaval was now at Aurora's castle. Her heart broke as she imagined him choosing a human woman, and as she landed at the gates of the castle, she inevitably remembered the fateful night of Aurora's almost death, and Diaval's words:

_"I need you, Diaval. I cannot do this without you, Diaval."_

He cared for her, she never thought otherwise. But to have her as his mate was something far beyond than caring, and deeper. In eighteen years sharing a nest, he never did anything that would tell her that he wanted something else. Of course, it was not as if she had a head for it, and if so, if he had done something, if he had tried to court her, she would have noticed it quickly, and then she would have rejected him because her heart was not ready to love.

Aurora changed that. And Maleficent would not let a broken heart cut off any ties she'd build with the girl.

Even if jealously was to win her heart when she saw Diaval with another woman, Maleficent would never abandon Aurora.

And it was this thought that made the fae take a deep breath and enter the castle.

All servants ran from side to side, preparing the princess's birthday party. In the distance, Maleficent caught sight of three pixies—Knotgrass, Flittle and Thistlewit—but they were too busy fighting amount themselves to notice her arrival.

Aurora also wasn't expecting her to pay a visit, nor was anyone else in court. Through her life, Maleficent grew accustomed to many looks of fear and hatred, since the Moors could be magical, but they were not exempt of sins. Humankind was no different—and they didn't even care enough to hide what they really thought of her. They barely spoke to her, but were quite creative on spreading lies of gossip.

Maleficent knew she wasn't a good influence to the young queen—she wouldn't deny the obvious, having cursed a child in her crib. But Aurora claimed to love her, and all Maleficent wanted at the moment was to be closer to her, to hear her voice and laugh, to feel loved—if not for her people, if not for the man she wanted, she could at least have the love of the girl she had as her daughter—the heir she would not have.

_"Godmother!"_

As sweet as the honey of the bees, it was clear by the expression the young queen carried one could tell she hardly contained her happiness upon meeting with the ones she secretly saw as a mother and father. The girl was the definition of purity. With the blue robes of a fae, she was so beautiful. She was kind and fair—her pride, proof that her life had not been wasted on nothing but revenge and hatred. Aurora was light, the brightest star, and Maleficent loved her so much it came to be painful.

_"Aurora."_

Upon seeing the fae at the doors of her throne room, the young queen grinned, caring little if her court cast her reproving looks, nor if her servants were too soon to spread cunning gossips around the lower parts of the castle and down the near villages.

_"...the Horned Queen just arrived..."_

Maleficent would then smile, proud at her little beastie's wild nature.

It reminded her of herself when so pure and young, and it hurt that she had wasted so much time in her life in revenge. Hadn't she been so proud, perhaps she would had had the chance to know ow it was like to raise a child...even if wasn't her own.

A sigh left her mouth.

If she could turn time back, would she really curse Aurora, only to have her as her child?

Maleficent was awoken from her thoughts as her heard Aurora's laughing when she wrapped her arms around her. The fae was much taller than the girl, and rested her chin over her head and sighed, overjoyed.

Later, it came the silence, as Maleficent would sight young princess Aurora looking at her expectantly.

The girl, as her godmother never looked so sad, was suddenly worried to know why the sudden sad look, and her heart pained to notice the tiredness on the fae's eyes, but perhaps a touch was the consolation she needed now.

Perhaps that's why she was there—to _feel_ loved.

Aurora felt a wave of sympathy hit her heart and wrapped her arms around her godmother tightly. Maleficent closed her eyes as her heart was filled with _family love_. Her hands instinctively felt upon Aurora's golden hair and she let her fingers caress the long locks. The little beastie's presence made her forget, if only for a moment, of her worries.

"I've missed you, godmother." A whisper was muffed against the fae's robes. "I've missed you so much."

Maleficent was crying, she knew.

But this time, she was so very happy.

 

* * *

 

The fae and the queen had a small reception waiting for them on the palace gardens, as always happened to honoured guests. While Aurora's servants were eager to have their queen's wishes satisfied, they were wary of Maleficent, at whatever a fae might think as acceptable for dinner.

Maleficent noticed they avoided at all costs any birds on the main meal—which was wise, though she wouldn't feel offended had they cooked quails and pheasants. Diaval, if he was here, would be devastated to see his little friends served on the shiny plates he loved so much.

The fae felt her heart tighten painfully at the memory of her beloved. She watched quietly as Aurora spoke of her kingdom. It healed her soul to hear her beastie talking. The subject of her words really didn't matter much. The most important to Maleficent was to hear the voice of her beloved god-daughter.

"Philip's letter arrived yesterday." Aurora wouldn't stop smiling when taking about her prince.

"And you are happy." Maleficent noted.

Aurora grinned, "I won't lie. I miss him."

Maleficent knew exactly what the young queen was feeling. She also missed Diaval with everything she had. She hadn't even been able to have a moment of rest without his presence.

Which she must get used to, she insisted. Diaval deserved better than her. He should find himself someone to care for, a she-raven which wings were beautiful and—

_"Godmother!"_

Any jealous thoughts warred off her head as she felt a warm hand touch hers, and she noticed that her magic as well had made her feelings known, and green flames almost burned a quite expensive tablecloth.

Now aware of her mistake, Maleficent retracted her fingers, and her magic was gone, preventing any incidents to happen any further. She said nothing, though—would do nothing to justify her actions, her thoughts filled with self hate, her stupid feelings for a raven she was probably never going to see again, feelings she couldn't ever control of probably so sinful they were. She could've hurt the little beastie, and that was unforgivable.

Just another proof that she didn't deserve any kind of kindness.

"Are you alright?"

Aurora, the sweet girl she was, of so understanding and loving, would look at her with pleading eyes, holding the love Maleficent was never so aware of, and making the fae feeling grateful and ungrateful at the very same time.

 _Grateful_ for having such sweetness in her life, in the form on a young woman called after dawn.

 _Ungrateful_ for being so selfish and wanting for much more, the type of perfection few could accomplish, and less deserved.

"I’ll be." Her words left her mouth in a whisper that denoted her many sleepless nights.

Aurora, thank the gods, learned to be as watchful as her godfather, and presented her godmother with a dubious look, "Diaval is not with you."

Maleficent's ears did not fail to observe the slight concern on Aurora's voice. She looked away and answered with a low tone, "He's not."

But Aurora was no fool to let this opportunity to pass and frowned, also puzzled by the hardness of the words.

"Has something happened?" She asked, noticing how suddenly Maleficent tensed, but glanced back at her, keeping her eyes cold.

"Why do you presume this?" The fae asked.

The queen frowned, not so innocently commenting, "He never lets you out of his sight, so I find rather uncommon to find you by yourself."

Words thrown to the wind, an uncomfortable silence followed its path. Maleficent did have time to realise the hidden meaning behind the queen's words, and parted her lips to protest, to show her infinite disbelief—which only resulted in silence, for she had no words to say.

The young queen sighed softly, "Have you both fought?" Maleficent raised an eyebrow. Aurora did the same. " _What?_ It wouldn't be the first time."

"We haven't." Maleficent said defensively, but Aurora wouldn’t believe her. Lies were no good when it comes to the Guardian of the Moors.

"You're angry at him?" She kept guessing. Another uncomfortable silence was not what she wanted. She was not pleased by it. "Why? Because he likes to prepare your morning meal?"

Maleficent blinked. Then... "He told you." She soon concluded, eyes narrowing. Her voice contained a large amount of something Aurora could recognise as _annoyance_. "When?" She demanded.

"He has visited me as well." And he was so desperate. Broken too, and very confused. But Aurora wasn't saying this... _yet_. "He wasn't pleased to know his services were no longer appreciated."

Something it the air changed then. Aurora could not quite guess what it was, but regardless of it, it was not something pleasant.

"He...said those words?"

"You expected him not to?" Aurora knew she had never seen her godfather look so defeated. "You left him, godmother. What did you wish to make him feel if not unwanted?"

"I never…" She paused. She couldn’t be just presuming things that weren't truth, no? "I assumed he would prefer to be left alone." Maleficent never sounded so sincere.

Aurora frowned, again. "And why would you think that?"

Maleficent was clearly uncertain in her answer, "He’s no longer my servant."

The wind hit strong on them both. Aurora let her eyes travel through her godmother's face, wondering the reasons for the distress and sadness clearly exposed on her eyes. It did not take a minute to her mind to solve the puzzle, making the young queen wonder why she was not surprised at all.

Her godmother could be so oblivious sometimes…

"Is that why you are sad?" Aurora asked, making sure to place an assuring hand over her godmother’s arm, "Because you had no wish to let him go?"

Maleficent turned her head to the horizon, away from the worried eyes of her beastie—just like in the days of the curse. To Aurora, it meant more than a simple nightmare to fear.

"He deserves more." The fae replied, and then her eyes were back on the princess, "The best."

"His wishes are limited to having his family around, godmother. And by family I'm not being arrogant for meaning you and me. And Philip too, though godfather won't be willing to admit it just yet."

Maleficent wasn't as convinced, "No wise creature considers his mistress as family."

"Godfather _certainly_ does. He's so kind to us, to _you_. He built the nest you live in, he helped you to protect me. He enjoys taking care of you." The young queen said this with a humorous voice.

Maleficent huffed, "I asked him to stop doing so. There is no need to."

"But he didn't stop."

"He didn't." Maleficent sighed in resignation. " _Stubborn_ _bird_."

"It doesn't surprise me."

Maleficent's eyes widened slightly, "It doesn't?"

"No." Aurora did not hold back a grin this time. "Ravens are like that."

Emerald eyes drifted to the clouds above. An imposing nature covered emotions partially, making it impossible for to guess any thoughts.

"He is... _was_ my servant." Maleficent said with conviction. But it was more to remind herself of such than to answer Aurora, "Annoying...Prideful. Loud but a good servant, nevertheless."

"I take you appreciate what he does, at least?"

"He's also a friend, Aurora." A small smile settled on her full red lips as she repeated words once said. "A shoulder to rely on."

_Oh._

"And you are in love with him."

Maleficent's face became as pale as the moon. She swallowed hard, trying to slow down the beat of her heart. She did not have success. The beastie was smiling at her in a strange way and she did not like it.

"Aurora—"

" _Godmother_." The queen had no patience to babbling. "Why have you not told him? _When_ do you intent on telling him that you love him?"

Words were expected from all, but sometimes a few ones could catch one off guard. Some for being stupid, but most for being too wise and witty. Maleficent would be alarmed if one was to tell her to pretend the little beastie was blind—maybe even stupid. The girl obviously wasn't and the fae was not sure if there was some goodness on such fact. The young queen was too good for her own luck, and she definitely had more to tell than what her people expected of her.

Still, it was not something easy to deal with.

And Maleficent turned so desperate so quickly that the abruptness scared Aurora a little. But to the fae it little matter how obvious she was being now, for what she cared for was being so obvious before.

If the girl knew of her feelings for the raven the fae couldn't, but if she did, then maybe Diaval also did.

The possibilities of the truth scared her to no ends. Maleficent tried to hide her cravings as much as she could. She had avoided searching for his eyes when she felt insecure, and started to use herself to a life without his selfishness actions, even though she couldn't not miss his warmth night. Mainly of this was because she couldn't see any signs of reciprocity. Diaval was so good, so caring, so kind and so polite—but he was like this to anyone else. Well, maybe not anyone, but he had the biggest of hearts. Maleficent knew pretty well that Aurora could ask him anything and he would kill a dragon if was to please her. In addition, if she asked him to share a bed with her —innocent ways or not—Diaval would gladly lay in bed and held her night after night until she needed him no more.

Maleficent felt no jealously at this—she had no right, no reason. There was a reliance on the bird—to appease nightmares, fears and useless dreams, which the memories, somehow, only got worse on his presence. Because he was the cause of them. Because he was her dreams, the future she craved—a family and children. For so long she had dreamed, but to dream of a magic she had no authority to claim was so also painful.

Was she not used to pain?

"I can’t."

Because he didn't love her. Because he hadn't show any sings of interest. Because he looked at her with such respect she would just wish he would grab her and make love to her. Because there was nothing of which she wished more than to tell him that her nights weren't plagued with nightmares but dreams of loving him with her lips and body, claiming him with her blood, and bearing his young. Dreams of three little ones with obsidian wings and emerald eyes, flying through the skies with their mother and laughing at each other. Dreams of happy days and peaceful nights, where she could find solace on her mate's arms for no reason other than the fact he was her mate and so she could touch him whenever she wished to because he wouldn't reject her advances.

But her dreams were torments to her tired heart, of which she was so used to deny. They were nothing more than foolish hopes of a wounded soul that harboured whatever she shouldn't wish of having, despise being so beautiful and pure.

And that would never change.

"I can't." Her voice was so tired. Of running run, of hiding and fighting the flame within her heart. For her dreams were beautiful and she no longer wanted to have them as dreams. "I can't—"

_Love him._

"Why not?"

The fae's heart skipped a beat. The prospect of her terrible nightmares had her soul quickly alarmed, yet she knew better how to deal with them than to deal with her feelings for her servant and the foolish visions of having a family with him.

"I own him his freedom."

_Oh...?_

Aurora's lips twitched a little, and her eyes, finding no place on her godmother's, glanced down at her hands, so elegant and delicate. In one motion, she took one of them in hers. In response to the contact, the fae swallowed hard. With her chin high, her composition was the same as always—proud and royal—yet her eyes would betray her, so she diverted them from the girl to the beautiful horizon ahead them.

She had no wish to feel the pity in someone else's eyes. Not again.

"It is what needs to be done." She managed to say after some time.

"But what about what you want? This isn't something you wish."

Maleficent frowned, "Should it matter?"

" _Absolutely._ You wish to keep him."

Maleficent would have said something—anything—had the pull on her hands not been so strong—as if Aurora was as desperate as her. But the young queen had no limits. She could have anything. Maleficent would give her anything, her subjects would give her anything, the prince would give her anything and Diaval would give her anything.

The fae had not been bestowed to be beloved by all who meet her. Fear was usually the first feeling anyone got upon meeting her.

And sometimes it was so difficult to deal with this fact.

"Godmother, please..."

Her wings rose in the instinct to protect their owner from more pain, to take her away. Aurora was quick to her will, enough to reach for her free arm, stopping her in her tracks. Breathless, as if she had run a little, Aurora forced Maleficent to turn. The hardness of her face was so horrible, so painful to see, that it almost made her break down in tears.

"You miss him, don’t you?" It sounded as a question, but it wasn’t.

The muscles in her arm relaxed a little and her green eyes fell upon Aurora's. Guilt choked her heart, which in pain was not ashamed to beat in constant love for the girl. Her free hand stroked her golden hair in an apology.

" _Greatly_ _._ " The whisper, frustrated and filled in pain, was interrupted by herself and her eyes closed in one shot. Without her realising it, she shredded her once compassionate heart. Aurora remembered to have seen her that way before and somehow, it was all about her wings. It was a confession, she knew, of what she felt, of what she wanted, of what had always dreamed of having.

And yet...

"Ask him to stay."

Maleficent's eyes fell to the spot in the ground as a fair whisper came out in a breath, "I can’t."

"Because he deserved more? _"_ Aurora asked firmly this time, as if she was talking to one of her servants after hearing him or her badmouthing her godparents. "You can't see how wonderful you are?"

Was she really?

"Beastie..." Maleficent touched her cheek, caressing her skin softly, trying to avoid scratching her with her claws, eyes searching for features and scars of a past that was too recent. Hers held deep regret and sorrow and it was almost unbearable not to cry. "I _cursed_ you." She whispered her guilty, her darkness and suddenly all made sense.

The queen touched her hand over her cheek, pressing it slightly against her skin.

"You didn't forgive yourself." And while Maleficent didn't answer with words, her eyes gave her away. Aurora smiled tearfully, "Well, know I forgave you. I love you, Mother."

_What?_

She was out of breathe, "Aurora..."

"I don't care what you think, or what others may say. To me, you are my mother. You're the only mother I had all my life." Then, she opened a smile and the world seemed to be less cruel. "I love my aunts, I do, but you are my Mother and you may deny it, yet you were always there to protect me."

"To assure you would be alive to suffer from my curse, not because I loved you." Maleficent tried to reason, tried to find a way to make things look as they truly were—at least in her mind: that she was a monster that deserved no mercy or love. "I took you from Leila."

Aurora wouldn't question that so directly. She did wish she had met birth mother. Yet, to ignore what Maleficent did out of love wasn't fair.

"You loved me." She said. "More than the king could ever have tried. You saved me."

At the mention of Stefan, Maleficent's voice held bitterness, "He was mad with power. I couldn't let him hurt you. I love you."

"Then be happy." Aurora put it simply. "Do you think I can be happy while you are not? Besides, I can’t wait to have little siblings."

Maleficent's eyes widened, alarmed, while her heart beat faster and stronger than ever.

"Aurora—"

" _Please_ , Mother. You love him and he loves you. I don't see why you can't start a family."

"Even if…" She stopped to clean her throat, suddenly dry at her own insignificance. She chuckled a humourless laugh, and shook her head, gaze down, "I _can't._ "

"Why not?"

And the truth settled in.

 _"_ _Hybrids are not meant to bear_ _children."_

There was a moment of many things you may want to consider before daring to think of, well, anything.

A dramatic pause, followed by tears, filled with grief restrained by a revelation the fae never wished to confront. She has always knew of her own limitations, but to say it out loud? It was the first time.

It was not surprising that Aurora was the first person to actually hear it. Maleficent loved the girl more than anything in the world, the princess was her light, and so she fae knew she could trust her.

But her pain became so much greater, tangent and raw, for now she was filled with the same humiliation that for years she suffered in silence, victim of the glances she received from the same people she swore to protect. Because from gnomes to pixies and elves as well—they all whispered and gossiped about the hybrid fae who could never participate in the festivities of spring because simply put—who would choose her?

And when the human chose power over her love, she spared herself from pity and groaned in anger before the forest, challenging anyone to say, _"Why did you think it would be different?"_

And yet, that silly raven man stormed into her dreams and hopes and there was nothing she could do but allow him. For his hugs were warmer than the sun, and his smile was daring—so much better than flying.

And nothing hurt more than realising she didn't deserve him—that she would never kiss his lips and say she loved him, that she would never make love to him, that she would never bear his— _their_ —children.

Not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't— _shouldn't—_ wouldn't.

"I..." Aurora sobbed, and her face turned red from her embarrassment and sadness. The insistent tears on her skin added a look of desolation. And regret. "...oh, Mother."

The fae accepted her embrace, and nothing was added to the conversation, for nothing could bring her more comfort than the princess's love. She was not her daughter by blood, but by heart, and it was much more than she could ever dream of deserving—to have the girl whom she once hated loving her with all her heart, looking upon her with mercy, and not arrogance disguised as pity (as did the creatures of the forest).

She would not say that her heart wouldn’t break even more to know that as the girl considered her as a mother, she could never be able to attend to such a simple desire: to give her siblings to love.

It was a cruel accessory to her self torture, and a wave of humiliation ran through her body, and she only not run away because she could not find any solace except to have her daughter in her arms.

Aurora herself felt even more than she could describe. For Maleficent deserved every single bit of happiness this world had to offer. If love was what she craved for, Aurora would do anything to help her getting it—if she could.

Knowing she couldn’t stung like an open wound.

"I love you, Aurora." She heard Maleficent whisper in mid tears.

She also did not fail to notice the clear guilt in the fae’s voice, and took her hands between hers, watching her intently, "It is not a sin to want for _more_ , Mother. I won't think less of you. _F_ _ather_ would never think less of you because of this."

Maleficent merely nodded, twice, though as if trying to convince herself, and failing miserably. Because _mating_ is supposed to be about finding love— _a partner for life_ —but a numerous offspring was the most expected result. And for years, even now, she craved so much to hold a child to her breast and call it _hers_.

She shouldn't— _wouldn't_ —couldn't.

"He…" She swallowed the knot on her throat, "He wouldn’t...he _won’t_ look at me as—"

"Because he’s a raven and you a fae?"

" _Hybrid_." She corrected, her voice hoarse and with no energy behind. She despised her own blood—a cursed nature which could not create a life.

"Doesn’t mean he can’t love you." Aurora tightened her hold in her mother’s hands. She knew how hard was for her to believe she deserved anything apart from sadness. It took her years to allow herself to love again, and even so, she was wary to romance as it had been what led to the loss of her wings.

But this was Diaval.

_Come on._

"I understand you for being scared. But _Mother_ ," Her eyes were hurting at how many tears that had painted her face, but she couldn’t help a small smile. She waited her while life to call someone that way. She was glad to finally do it. "Think of how much time you are losing now, living in fear. You deserve...so much more."

"So does Diaval."

"But he loves _you_. And he deserves an explanation. He can’t understand why you left. He thinks he did something wrong, that he has offended you."

Maleficent shook her head, "He never faulted me, Aurora. Not even once. I could always trust him."

A soft, thoughtful smirk broken into Aurora’s lips, "Because he’s your wings?"

Maleficent returned the smirk, though it was also sad, "Because he’s my wings."

"Will you talk to him then? He’ll be attending my party tomorrow night. Will you be here as well?"

At last, Maleficent nodded, sighing audibly,and Aurora reached out to wipe the tears away from fae’s face.She considered, but in the end, prevented herself from insisting any further. Maleficent wouldn’t budge, having for a lifetime refused to believe she was worthy of any kind of love. And in the few times she dared to hope, she was rejected and betrayed so cruelly. Aurora knew she was not afraid of Diaval—he would never hurt her—but she didn’t believe him to see her as the woman she was, so in love with him, and willing to sacrifice everything to see him happy. Even if it resulted in nights of endless nightmares.

It killed Aurora to know there wasn't much she could do.

But she tried, nevertheless, "I miss your smile, Mother."

And then Maleficent smiled, for the first time in days, "Thank you, my love."

And for her, well, this was enough.

And then again, it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sighs) I love drama. I'm not sorry for that.


	5. Sweet Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say 'spring' it's nature's way to say 'let's party'.
> 
> The irony is...unsettling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first off, thank you all guys for accompanying this journey so far. I totally loved to write this story and it warms my heart that all you people share the same love. 
> 
> Second, I know this story may have sound really sad for many of you, but it helped me going through lots of trouble, so yeah, this is it.
> 
> Thank you again!

Maleficent hated many things.

So far, nothing new under the sun.

She hated  _nightmares_ —terrible memories without a moment of rest. She hated her _fears_ —the helpless feeling of never knowing whatever she did was enough to prove herself. She hated the  _loneliness_  that comes along being one of a kind. She hated the shame of her own  _darkened_  soul. She hated _loud_  noises—pointy sensitive ears and all. She hated summer days in which the  _heat_  wouldn’t allow her to breathe. She hated winter nights in which the _cold_  wouldn’t allow her to sleep. She hated when things got  _stuck_  on her wings or horns. She hated the  _scars_  on her back, heart and soul. She hated being _away_  from her little beastie. She hated not being able to bear  _children_  of her blood—little faes of dark wings and emerald eyes she would've loved so much. She hated the _hope_  of her heart at the mere sight of the man she loved. She hated that she wasn’t _enough_  for him—and never would be to herself or her people.

And from so many  _dislikes_ , nothing came as far to a breaking point that her hatred for any kind of  _parties_ —necessarily because they brought her back to flashes of everything she hated. She hated parties just as the creatures of the night hated the light. She hated parties because everything was happy...too much everything.

You can very obviously conclude there was a reason which gave rise to such hate.

But who would have time to listen about a fourteen-year-old fae who dared to participate in one of her people's spring festivals, only to be shunned away because  _hybrids cannot have children_? She even had a necklace magically crafted, hoping she would find someone—an elf, perhaps an orc—to accept her gift, the way of courtship in the Moors. She ended up rejected, watching from afar while the festivals so joyful and peaceful went on without her.

Balthazar approached, grunting comfort and understanding. He spoke of beauty and power, which she both wielded with pride—or was supposed to. He gave her a crown to adorn her horns as  _Guardian of the Moors_.

She flew the skies with her chin high, sad eyes and a broken heart.

On the following spring, she met Stefan, and one year later, he gave her a kiss and then, disappeared. She was so happy for the kiss, yet didn’t dare hoping for anything more. When her friend returned, she did—she was brave enough to trust.

And she was betrayed.

Any festivities became a clear and painful memory, of which she never dared to revive. Why would it matter, if she knew she could not stand a chance? Maleficent hated parties because they happen on spring, and she hated spring because it reminded her of parties which she would never receive an invitation.

Still, for her little beastie she would also do anything, so put up with the festivities for the Queen's birthday, well, Maleficent would make an effort.

Her day would’ve began early had she got any sleep, and as she didn’t even try, we can say her night was never over, prolonging its hours till the sun was on the sky again.

She stayed in one of the castle's most luxurious rooms, located in the same tower of the Queen's quarters—at Aurora’s insistence. She sat by the window to watch the sky and stars and comets and the moon. She also read a few books because of course Aurora insisted on teaching her and Diaval to read once it came to her understanding the news that fairies did not have habits of reading or writing.

Maleficent has always prided herself on being a quick learner—perhaps  _too much_ —and this has always caused her problems with other creatures. Because envy was not a feeling restricted to humans, and a young Maleficent could only stood there, not understanding why so few creatures addressed her by name—wondering if it was out of fear or anything else. When she realized they were just jealous, she became angry, for when had she give them any reason for such primal feeling?

Their memory was distant now, and Maleficent chose not to waste her time on it. Lonely in a room that was twice as large as her old nest in the ruins, she read two books: the first about a thousand and one stories of a bride to her husband, and then the tale of a young woman who was mistreated by her sisters and stepmother. The tale of  _Cinderella_  was no stranger to her—though it was almost annoying. Because the stepmother tried at all costs to make her feel useless and inadequate and Maleficent envied the young maid for her faith.

And she laughed, seeing from where Aurora had taken this  _'fairy godmother'_  thing. She wondered, too, how Aurora could be so innocent to the point of trusting that her, only a shadow on her life so far, would have no intentions but to care for her rather than just wanting to assure herself that her revenge would be alive on her birthday.

Which, incidentally, was today.

Two servants knocked on the door of her chambers, and they walked in timidly and fearfully, and Maleficent wanted, with all her heart, to say something so that they would know that she would do them no harm.

But what good would it do? Not even her people listened to her before. Those young women certainly wouldn't too.

"Lady Maleficent." The red head began, and the fae nodded, acknowledging her presence and hoping she would continue.

The blonde swallowed, visibly nervous, "We are here...at the Queen's orders."

Said Queen chose this moment to come in out of nowhere, jumping like a child, accompanied by three ladies in waiting. But it was her birthday—she had every reason to rejoice.

_"Mother, good morning!"_

The servants gasped at the Queen's words—after all, _'fairy godmother'_  could be predictable, but _'mother'_  might even be offensive, since Maleficent was the one to indirectly cause Leila's depression and later death, and few people had forgotten that.

The fae confined herself to a simple smile, rising from her chair by the window to greet the Queen with a hug, "Good morning, beastie."

Aurora was grateful for the affection, "We have so much to do today, Mother. My servants will help you if you need them. You..." She hesitated then, her expression becoming serious. "...how did you sleep?"

Maleficent sighed in an immediate reflection, and tried to find enough words that would answer the question without the Queen ending up worried or distressed. But the weariness in her eyes conveyed her sadness, and Aurora embraced her again.

"Things will find their place, Mother," She promised. "Believe it."

Maleficent hugged her closer, closing her eyes to ignore the angry glances the servants gave them. Of all the hatred she received in the world, nothing would prevent her from loving her little beastie openly.

"Are you hungry?" Aurora pulled away suddenly, causing Maleficent to smile. "We can share a meal and then start with the preparations! My aunts are making me a dress!"

Maleficent raised an eyebrow, "Are they now?" She was careful not to let any scorn show. Although they were not very much responsible, the three pixies loved Aurora ( _in a dubious way_ , a voice spoke in her head), and Maleficent would not offend them knowing that Aurora considered them as family (which was fair, having they raised the girl— _with your help_ , spoke again the voice in her head).

The young Queen didn’t seem to notice the distaste on the fae’s voice, "Mother, you need to see the dress they made me. They can make you one as well!"

Maleficent was doubtful and sarcastic, "Will they be so kind?"

Aurora frowned in disapproval, "Mother, you and my aunts need to stop this competition."

"There is no competition."

Aurora rolled her eyes in a good mannered way, dropping the subject, "If you say so. Come now." She pulled her arm but stopped when Maleficent stayed in place. "Or would you rather have our meal here?" The fae nodded slightly and Aurora understood, the sweet girl she was. "Very well." She turned to her servants. "Would you be kind to serve our meal here?"

The ladies who accompanied Aurora smiled at her, saying, "At once, Your Majesty," and rushed out the door.

"Could you leave us alone?" Aurora then asked (instead of  _ordering_ ) the other two ladies there. They nodded, and closed the bedroom door as they left.

Alone the two of them, Aurora pulled Maleficent to once again sit by the window. Holding her hand, she said, "You have me worried, Mother. The guards said the light on your room was up for the night."

Maleficent hated that she had the little beastie bothered by her problems, "I was reading." She replied, trying to sound calm.

Aurora tilted her head to the side, curious, and for a moment Maleficent saw Diaval reflected on the girl’s ways, and her heart hurt.

"Well, that’s good news." The Queen was smiling. "Which books did you read?"

Maleficent handed her said books, because it was easier and because she didn’t feel like talking right now. Aurora could only smile at the stories the fae had chosen.

"Fairy tales?" She mused.

The fae tapped the first book's cover with her finger, "There was but one fairy, and she was a godmother."

Aurora pretended ignorance, "Was she?"

Maleficent smirked softly, "Your _aunts_ would tell you about this girl?"

Aurora nodded, "They did. And so whenever I felt your presence, I knew you were my  _fairy godmother_."

"Do I need to turn a pumpkin into a chariot?"

Aurora giggled, "There is no need for a chariot, Mother. My prince is coming for me tonight. I can’t wait to see him again. There is...many things to be said."

"Which is?"

Aurora was blushing, "It is no secret I love him, Mother. I expect us to be wed soon."

Maleficent contemplated the young Queen for a moment, "Do you need me to remind him what may happen to him had him hurt you in any way?"

Aurora laughed openly this time, "I trust Philip, Mother. And he wants you to do it as well."

Maleficent pressed her lips, resigned, not sure if she should condescend to the Queen's will, "I will try."

"It's all I ask of you." Aurora's smile turned kinder, "Now, tell me: what will you be dressing tonight? My aunts and I already chose me a dress. We need to choose you one."

Maleficent was not sure it was a good idea, "Aurora..."

Aurora’s eyes shinned in sudden excitement, "Why, Mother, you're going to need to wear a dress! But I do not think anything my court ladies have is fit to you...in the sense of _beauty_ , not size." She added the last part quickly, and then sighed, dreamily. " _Father_ said you use magic to make your dresses. Can you show me how it works?"

The mention of Diaval was a spontaneous thing, because of course he and Aurora kept in touch, and she had felt his— _her_ —magic nearby all night, and it was something that soon took any little happiness out of the fae's face.

Aurora became saddened to the same point—she knew the fae too well, "Mother, I didn’t mean—"

"I may show you, if you want." She answered with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

The Queen shook her head, dismissing the matter, "Mother, talk to me." But Maleficent’s gaze lost in the bedroom window and the kingdom before her, and so Aurora had to squeezed her hands to get her attention, "Mother..."

Maleficent met her daughter's eyes through the reflection of the window.

"I made you a promise, Aurora."

"But if you're not ready, then don't do it." Aurora felt she owed the fae an alternative. It did not seem fair to her to force Maleficent to do anything against her will. Her life was already full of pain to have one more added to her list.

"I'm fine." Maleficent turned to the young Queen. "As you said, it is something I owe him."

"And you miss him as well."

Maleficent let out a short laugh, so dry of so much melancholy, "I won’t lie now."

"You could tell him that."

Maleficent lowered her eyes to their joined hands, and forced another smile, "I don’t wish my melancholy to be a bother to you. Today is a happy day. It is _your_ day. Let us enjoy it."

"Your feelings would _never_ be a nuisance to me, Mother." Aurora told her. "I want you to smile. And if I can bring you a little light, I want you to know that I will do everything and anything to make it happen."

Maleficent smiled, sincere this time, "Thank you, beastie."

Aurora grinned, "Now...we need to know what to wear!"

Maleficent could not say that she was excited for such a task, but Aurora’s smile always brings her hope.

She was trying.

 

* * *

 

And...it didn't last long, of course.

As to Aurora, well, she's the one trying now, quietly watching the black figure of a raven man standing alone while eyeing many couples waltz with the music.

The whole kingdom had been invited to celebrate her birthday, among nobles and commoners, and the food was plentiful and excellent in quality. Servants walked from side to side, serving wine, mead and water (for the younger ones), while others laughed and danced in the middle of the main hall. Which, by the way, was entirely decorated by infinite flowers and ribbons, colours of all kinds.

At the beginning of the night, Aurora wouldn’t stop smiling, and why would she? She would dance with anyone who asked her. She loved to dance, she loved to feel free, and the prince of her heart was watching her with a smile, happy to see the great love of his life on such a special day. She has never felt so beautiful. Her dress was embroidered in silver and gold, silk coloured in a dark blue, flashes of pink adorning here and then—a result of Maleficent losing her temper at Knotgrass and Flittle discussing between 'pink' and 'blue'.

As to the fae...well, she was breathtaking. Her beauty was never to be questioned, anyone would be awed and dazzled at the mere sight of her, but tonight, there was no word to describe her red lips, green eyes sparking against the light of candles, skin as white as snow, powerful cheekbones, sharp jaw, umber straight hair cascading like a waterfall on her back.

And she had just slipped out of the ballroom into a lonely balcony. She was distressed, and she had every right to be, as she was now addressed as _the Queen’s Mother_ , and Aurora was keen to make her wish known. The whole kingdom owned Maleficent ultimate respect and the fae was clearly affected, choosing to leave rather than to face the judgemental eyes of the court.

It was when Aurora’s night changed and she became very angry. All eyes had fell upon Maleficent just as her arrival was announced. And Aurora could hear the whispers, either astounded by the exorbitant beauty of the fae, or wicked, reminiscent of her deeds against the kingdom.

The young Queen bit down her lip, eyes falling back again on the figure of the raven man. Thoughts and memories crossed her mind all the time, but she didn't know which one deserved her attention. In short, it was all about the fact that he looked utterly lost.

And lonely.

Aurora had always found him quite fascinating and charming. He was the one to sing her lullabies and rock her crib so she could sleep, the one to play with her after lunch and to bring her shiny things on her birthday. Tonight, he had gifted her with a ring of which she made sure to wear always from now on.

Mind you, she couldn't help her sadness at his longing eyes.

His actions toward his mistress were the main topic of conversation among her aunts and many other creatures since the end of the curse was felt over the Moors. The magic released was intense, with bright waves travelling the lands in a frightening speed. Many magical creatures complained to feel dizzy, the magic within them seeming weaker at each passing moment. Their magic could do nothing against the magic of the daughter of light and darkness, so since they could not do anything to fight the fae, they talked about her, knowing that their words would affect her one time or another.

Aurora could not understand such obsession—the reason for the fight between her aunts this morning, and what made her surreptitiously leave their presence, as never before, and walk straight to her Mother's bedroom. While Knotgrass insisted that Maleficent should release the raven from his servitude, Flittle insisted on the good will to have him around because he was the only one besides Aurora that could keep any kind of evil feelings away from the fae's thoughts. Thistlewit, you may conclude, did not support any of her sisters because she thought of their reasons as very selfish ones.

" _A magical creature is driven by its feelings."_ She had told Aurora then.  _"Good feelings lead to pure magic. Evil feelings lead the whole world to tremble in fear."_

Aurora loved her aunts, she did, but they were rather too harsh to her quite mind. Knotgrass, for example, could be very bossy when she wanted to. Pride poisoned her soul. She could be kind, but while Flittle was pleased with simple things, Knotgrass had always craved for more, and was obviously annoyed at Maleficent for having someone so dedicated to her. She probably had some kind of grudge against the fae, who had been quite difficult as a child. Flittle shared some complacency, wishing only for a little of peace. Thistlewit was kinder, but quieter, and the one Aurora could actually share the same thoughts when it comes to Maleficent and Diaval.

The pixie in green robes had told Aurora that Maleficent had been partially ignored by others when she was but a child. She's a _fae_ —a Fairy and a Redcap. All creatures were aware that one day she would reign over them all. So they tolerated her pranks, for their respect at her mother's legacy, their fear of her powers, and, somehow, the fact they knew she didn't hold a single memory of the family she never had.

Aurora knew that Maleficent had explored most of her dark side in her moments of solitude. The blame falls over all the Moors-folk, including the three pixie sisters themselves, yes, for not going against other people's thoughts and showing the fae with horns a little compassion, not only pity.

When Stefan stole two gems, however, everyone was aware of the fae's actions, since they did not wish to have their princess to hold romantic relationships with someone that was not one of them. According to Flittle:  _"Humans were no good and any inhabitant in the Moors feared that if Maleficent mated a human, it would make room in her heart for the monster her father had been."_

Aurora also had been told about the passion Hermia held, and how she had died: giving birth to her child.

 _"The passion in everything she does is dangerous."_  Knotgrass once whispered, shortly after the news of Maleficent's actions toward Diaval were known to all.

To Aurora, such conclusions were too hasty and just...wrong. Maleficent had found on that peasant boy the hope for true happiness. His betrayal awoke the deep anger from her heart, and her magic was dominated by darkness. Her desire to find a mate faded, and the need for love was so clearly described in her eyes that it turned out to be a misfortune for everyone.

Thus, Aurora had to be away from her aunts after hearing them list the injustices that Maleficent apparently had caused by still maintaining the raven man under her control. She was sure that Diaval had great love for Maleficent, because despite having the power to change shapes, despite having done more than enough to earn his freedom, he didn't leave her. He seemed to expect in delicious silence for her approval, always intending on accomplish her most secret wishes.

The Queen then realized, unlike her aunts, the true importance that the silly raven had on the fae's life. How could it be about control over feelings and magic? Not when it actually was about love—and kindness, devotion and protection, something so very needed in the Moors, and definitely something humanity needed to understand once and for all.

And so, Aurora worried. She knew of their broken promise—that Diaval owned Maleficent no more than she owned him—and so letting go of him was more than reasonable.

It was not like any of them were aware of the consequences, however. For Aurora wasn’t blind, neither was anyone in the Moors, to deny the powerful bond the horned fae and her servant had built. It was _love_ on its purest form, perhaps like those of ancient tales, rare and so beautiful that it would result on a most likely wonderful offspring if only Maleficent had been gifted with that possibility.

She wasn’t, and even so, the raven man loved her.

Aurora was unaware if he knew of his mistress’... _condition_ , for lack of better definition. Would his feelings change, if he knew choosing her as his mate would never result on the little hatchlings he wanted so much?

It was painful to think it might be a possibility, as an offspring was one of the most important and essential parts of a raven’s life, and Diaval wouldn’t be committing a sin if he decided for such path. Which could totally justify Maleficent’s fear. She didn’t want to be rejected again by something that wasn’t her fault—something she couldn’t change.  _Hoping_ was too risky. It wasn’t worth the effort. And so, she walked away, choosing the kind of loneliness that had been imposed on her.

Aurora was witness to all and was in a prolonged battle with herself—act or not? Not afar, the raven man stood there, heartbroken as many couples danced and laughed together and he was just there...alone. No, it wasn’t what Aurora had planned. She thought she had convinced Maleficent to talk to Diaval, yet the fae wouldn’t even look at him in the eye.

The Queen knew she had to fix the mess she made.

But  _how?_

Diaval kept watching the couples dancing and Aurora felt her heart squeeze. She was confused. Love was such a beautiful thing. She couldn’t picture why Diaval and Maleficent thought of themselves as unworthy.

_"Godfather?"_

Aurora winced at how Diaval jumped in his place, startled to be spoken to. He turned to her with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, please, don't apologise. I was the one to sneak by. Forgive me."

Diaval smiled kindly, "There is no need for that. Now, tell me how can I help you? Enjoying the evening so far, I assume? With so many people to greet and dance, many things to do. And to eat! _Ha!_ I tried the meat pies as you recommended."

Aurora smiled, "And what is your conclusion from them?"

Diaval gave a nod of approval, "One of the best I ever had, little hatchling. My favourites however are the ones covered in blueberries."

"I'm glad to hear it. I had them personally baked for Philip."

"You had them—" Diaval’s face turned confused. "And why is that _?_ "

"Those are his favourite. I wanted to make a good impression."

The frown on Diaval's face deepened, "As in a way of courtship _?_ I thought males were supposed to court females?"

Aurora chuckled, "That doesn’t prevent me from doing things for him. To make him smile, as he makes me. I wanted to spoil him a little for the evening."

"I see. It is a kindness then."

"It is."

"And where is your prince now?"

"Dancing."

Diaval raised an eyebrow, "And you’re not with him because...?"

"He's dancing with his mother. And..." She held his hand. "I wanted to speak to you."

"Certainly. What do you wish to speak about?"

Aurora took a deep breathe, "I couldn’t help notice you’re here by yourself. Alone."

The sad expression that took place over his face brought a sense of helplessness to Aurora’s heart, "My Queen, forgive me. I didn’t mean—"

Aurora interrupted him, her voice holding amusement, "First,  _why_  the sudden formalities? We have been through too much together already."

Diaval gave into a small smile, "As you wish, little hatchling. Second?"

Aurora watched him but for a moment, "Will you talk to her?"

Diaval blinked, twice, "I’m afraid I don’t follow?"

"I meant Mother. Will you take the initiative or must I lock the two of you in a tower?"

Once the sentence was done, the glow of Diaval’s eyes drifted into a lifeless pattern. Aurora felt the concern within her heart being replaced by a look of understanding. She squeezed his shoulder, as if trying to console him.

"I don't want to impose a situation on her." He whispered.

Aurora pondered on his words, " _I need to talk to you_  won’t do?"

"I did try that. She just...walked away." The defeat in Diaval’s voice was almost frightening, "I’m not aware of  _why._ I don’t know what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then  _why?"_  His voice deepened, and he no longer held his emotion. "Why act like this, without saying a word to my face, and then just...just turn her back on me as if we hadn’t spent twenty years sharing a nest. But..." His face fell. "If that’s what she wants...if Mistress doesn’t...if she doesn’t want me around, then I accept. Whatever it takes to make her happy." A deep sigh left his mouth then, features transpiring his crisp tiredness, "Even if it means she won’t even look at me."

Aurora resigned herself to a sigh, "Don't give up now. Things hadn’t been...she has been restless lately. The lack of sleep doesn’t help."

"The feeling is mutual." Aurora frowned at this, and Diaval explained, "She’s not the only one without a night of rest. I...I can’t seem to find a suitable place. It has been a while. So I came here. You’re my hatchling. And ravens stay close to _family._ "

"Mother is _family_ too. She considers you as such."

"Yet she won't talk to me like she promised you." Diaval grimaced, "How can I help if she doesn’t tell me what’s wrong? I understand if she’s angry—"

"Not at you.  _Never_ at you."

"Then at  _what_?"

Aurora bit her tongue to prevent her from saying what it wasn't up to her, "You'll have to ask her."

The raven man pressed his lips into a thin line, "Because you surely know but won't tell me?" 

"It's not my place to tell you."

Diaval’s eyes drifted down, his hair covered part of his face, making it impossible for Aurora to see his expression.

"I don't know what to do, hatchling."

Aurora gave him no response. She was used to his paternal and overprotective ways, soft voice and playful nature, so this man with sad eyes was foreign to her. Even if she possessed little memories of him as human, she was familiar of bright black eyes playing with her in spring afternoons, bringing flowers on her birthday and flying to catch her in the fields. Now that she saw him as human, after two years of adjustment, she knew that he was a fascinating creature, with his quirks and mannerisms. One of them happened now: running his right hand through his black hair, his eyes, once bright, were now empty and gazed down, losing the so common vivacity she was used to see.

Oddly enough, it made her understand what must be done.

"You should confess how you feel."

Diaval tensed, "...how I feel?"

Aurora eyed him with an arched eyebrow and that was enough for him to give in.

If honest to himself, Diaval would admit he thought of denying the obvious, to prevent his mouth to utter things it should not. But he couldn’t. He was in love and was not ashamed of it. Aurora, from her part, it has always been too obvious. She has known since the first time she saw them interact on that mud pound.

"What do you want me to say, hatchling? That I've loved her since the moment she saved me?"

The defeated tone in his voice was heartbreaking. Aurora had always been encouraged to move on, to never give up, and always sought in her parents the strength and love needed to be strong, whatever there were the challenges in her kingdom or personal life. However, to see her beloved _father_ speak so openly sad, she saw something she never truly expected from him.

_Abandon..._

" _This—_ " He placed a hand over his chest, his heart, "—was an accident. I know she won’t...that she  _doesn’t_. Why would she? I mean, how can I offer her anything---"

"You can." Aurora knew she had to put some sense on her father’s mind, "And Mother does not care about gold or poetry, neither a crown. She needs love and protection, and you are the right person to give it to her. I'm sure."

Diaval’s eyes grew in interest, "And how it can be so?"

Aurora let out a sigh, giving herself some little time to think of better words, "Mother told me how she feels safe knowing she has you around."

She exposed a small smile at the redness that took over Diaval’s cheeks. She knew shouldn’t be saying this. It was something to be confessed by Maleficent herself, but as Diaval didn’t seem to be waiting to believe her words, maybe Aurora could convince him.

May her Mother forgive her one day?

"She...she did?"

"I wouldn’t lie to you, would I?"

"No, but...but..." He swallowed. "Why would a fae see in a bird?"

"Why would a bird see in a fae?" The Queen countered intelligently, which made Diaval finally confess the fascinating truth in his heart.

And the love burning in his eyes was delightful, "Her wings are the most beautiful thing I’ve—" His face was red once again, and he immediately closed his mouth. "I apologise. I lost my thoughts for the moment."

"I see no need for it. I already knew it. Her wings are attractive to you." There was not a more daring observation that this one, "Which is why you long to preen them." Diaval's eyes widened a little to the use of this adjective. Aurora gave into a smile, "Mother also told me she does appreciate when _you_ do." At this, his eyes lit up in pride, causing the Queen to laugh, "You never noticed...?"

"Mistress needed my services, not my feelings. She wasn't ready to allow herself to feel again. And I didn't know how _I_ felt. It was...too confusing. So different from what a raven shall feel. But I do know now. I love her."

"Why not court her then? Like Philip did to me?"

Diaval shook his head in dismay, "Providing food won’t work. I can’t attend to her needs if all I am comes from her. Even during winters, when we were stuck in the nest, she would provide us everything—the heat, the water and the food. And she always got furious when I went out to do something. Said she did not want to see me hurt." He scoffed at the last part, " _As if_  I couldn’t protect myself."

"Mother knows you can." Aurora said. "But she worries. Magic or not, there are dangers that can take down a dragon. The battle at my throne room almost did."

His voice came in a soft, low tone, and if Aurora wasn’t close to him, she certainly would not have heard it, "Everything I ever did for her was never in hopes of ever changing anything between us. It is something I do to please her. And that’s enough. Harbouring such feelings it’s pointless anyway.  _You_  are the one who stole what was left of her heart. You’re her  _true love_."

The dejection in his voice didn’t prevent Aurora from glaring at him in a way that remembered him of his mistress when annoyed. But Aurora was well aware of his current state of self hate, so she decided not to comment of his emotions. Instead, she tried to come a good line of reasoning.

"I’m her  _daughter_." Came the correction, "And she is  _Mother_  to me. You should know by now that there are several types of love, including  _motherly love_ , which is what she feels for me. And it is definitely not the same for you. Mother trusts you. You can even touch her wings." The Queen now sounded exasperated. "Isn’t this enough proof of the trust she has on you? Not to mention that she always falls asleep in your arms when you do so, and, to close your eyes, knowing that someone is beside you requires lots of trust. While asleep we are most vulnerable. And Mother trusts you enough."

But Diaval wouldn't see, "But she doesn’t trust me with her nightmares. Why would she trust me with her heart?"

Aurora waited a second to repeat, "You preen her wings."

And Diaval’s reply was her victory, "Ravens preen their mate’s wings as a sign of affection."

"And Mother allowing you to preen hers tells you nothing?"

There was a pause.

"But how can I court her if I can't be a provider?"

Oh, so that was it.

"You could try the Moors traditions, in which male and females are equals."

Another pause.

Then, "The Moors _have_ mating rituals?"

Aurora asked out of sympathy, "Mother never told you?"

Diaval covered his eyes with his hands and groaned, "Mistress would never talk about such things. She just...she would just care about her curse and then you."

Aurora couldn’t help a small smile, "Well then, the Moors  _do_  have mating rituals. Spring is mating season for many creatures, and you must remember that Mother is not a raven, so raven mating rituals, such as  _providing food_ , will not work if you do not follow the traditions of her people as well."

Diaval mumbled some nonsense under his breath before saying, "I'm an idiot."

Aurora giggled, "You lacked the right information, that's all. But do you want to try?"

Diaval's eyes widened a little, "Here? Now?"

The Queen gave him a pointed look, "I’m not letting either of you leave this party without talking, at least."

Diaval was uncertain, "What if she says  _no_?"

Aurora took pity on him, knowing she also owned him an alternative just like she did to her mother, "If you don't feel that she will...accept you, then don't follow the ritual. But please, promise me will you talk to her either way?"

Now she was pouting, and Diaval couldn't argue.

"I promise."

Aurora grinned victoriously then, looking around, aiming for some assistance. Inside her mind, her conscience practically screamed that whatever was happening between her parents was most definitely _not_ her place to move a feather. But she loved them more than she ever listened to her conscience and if things weren’t solving themselves in the easier way, she would have to force her hand on this.

They would thank her in the end anyway.

"Oh, there she is."

She waved for Thistlewit to fly to them. The pixie pointed to herself, mouthing " _me?"_  and as Aurora nodded, the pixie was next to them in a second, bowing her head slightly, "My Queen, how can I help you?"

"Not me, but him." She looked at Diaval, who was obviously confused.

"I’m not certain—"

"Oh, no, no, no." She tugged on his robes, pulling him along, "Come, this is too important to be done in the middle of the ballroom."

Diaval smiled politely, though it was clear he wouldn’t get what was about to happen. Once the Queen, the fae and the pixie were from a safe distance from the public, next to the enormous door that lead to the gardens, he addressed Aurora and Thistlewit, "What is this about?"

The music coming from the ballroom was slow and sweet and with words of how the gleam in Aurora’s eyes were so familiar.

"You need help." The Queen turned to Thistlewit. " _He_  needs help. A gift from spring festivals."

Diaval's eyebrows knitted together, "Hatchling, what—"

"You’re courting Maleficent?" Thistlewit asked very cheerfully, "She’ll be so happy!"

Diaval’s face coloured, and his eyes were bursting in hope, "You...she will?"

"We’re sure." Aurora said. "Now please, the gift?"

The pixie nodded with a grin, "Oh, right. A minute! Wait here! Just wait!"

And she was off flying around. Her eyes roamed one of the tables full of food, an idea forming in her head. Finding what she's looking for, the pixie conjured a small straw basket with detailed drawings etched onto its sides. Flowers of many kinds and colours adorned the sides of the basket, which had four handles made of vines. She flew around the tables, collecting strawberries and walnuts, forming a pattern of multiple red and brown—all too very quickly, so her sisters, who were too busy either fighting each other or talking to court members, wouldn't notice. Then, Thistlewit used her magic to turn a goblet into a glass jar with a honeycomb inside of it, properly placing it at the centre of the basket. It was one of the most beautiful things anyone had ever seen.

The perfect _spring gift_.

Grinning proudly, the pixie then flew to her Queen and the raven man, who stared at her without understanding as she placed the basked on his hands.

Diaval’s eyes fell to the basket and then back to the pixie, "It is beautiful." He admitted. "But what do I do with it?"

The pixie sounded annoyed, "No wonder she doesn't think you love her. You don't even know our traditions."

Diaval frowned at Aurora, who explained, " _Spring Festivals_ are a magical event. It takes place on the first night of spring and it must find its end by the first morning of summer, giving a magical creature enough time to formally choose a mate. First, you give Mother the gift, and you must not say anything about your true intentions."

"And I suppose there is a reason for that?"

Aurora smiled sweetly at him, "It's substantially rude to be so... _bold_. Magical creatures see no need in words. Actions are preferable. When Mother sees the gift, she'll know its meaning. You won’t need to explain yourself, which is good to you, since I can feel how nervous you are."

"You cannot lose control." Thistlewit said in a hurry, clearly too excited to conceal herself, "Even with her hating spring festivals, she'll recognize the signs. She will be committed to give you an answer, I'm sure _—_ "

"Wait, you want me to court her by following traditions of which she hates?" Diaval held an incredulous look, "How is that a good idea?"

The Queen shouted her aunt a dangerous look, "Mother certainly has her reasons. But she won't turn you down for following her people's culture. At best, she will be touched."

"And at worse?"

Aurora held her breathe. She knew she was in trouble, "I don’t think _—_ "

"Maleficent may be angry." Thistlewit couldn’t help herself not even if she tried, "She has no good experiences with our traditions. They have no use to her."

Such odd phrase only helped on Diaval's confusion and Aurora’s despair.

"Explain yourself, please?"

The pixie ignored the pleading expression of her Queen. To tell you the truth, she didn’t even notice it.

"Her thoughts of life have always been too confusing." She kept talking. "She was an always so...unusual. So quiet. As a baby, she wouldn’t cry nor complain if she was wounded, hungry or sleepy. She was happy with what she had. Then, she became careless. Horns and wings...too much power. Too frightening and beautiful. But she can’t have children of her own, so who would share a nest with her? What’s the point?"

To say that the following silence was not disruptive, it would be a declaration of invalidity and naivety, for the music sang and the wind blow against the castle walls, spreading coldness which reigned not only in unspoken words.

Diaval preferred to listen to the laughing around as the pixie’s words made his heart tighten, feeling warm at the pixie's exposed concern—although her reasons where not completely unknown to him, and he still had his doubts regarding her loyalty—yet the fact that his mistress' feelings may be the same as his also made him curious to know if the reason that had aroused such hatred for her people traditions was the same that made her surrender so easily to the 'human-king'.

If so, Diaval knew then that he had been extremely negligent.

He understood  _loneliness_. On its greatest levels, for the matter. His brothers were gone by the beginning of his second season without a mate, finding themselves a mate and territory to defend. Diaval craved the same fate to himself, but never thought of his mistress as waiting the same. Because birds can see hope even if locked in a cage. Diaval has comforted his mistress so many times after so many nightmares, when the pain was too much to handle. He has lived with her long enough to know that she has a loving heart. She was affectionate and fragile. She was kind and loyal. She was powerful and strong minded and her wings were of the most perfect kind.

But to him, _loneliness_ had always been seen as a _choice_ in his mistress' life, never an _imposition_. It never crossed his mind that his mistress may have wanted to be alone because she wasn't able to find someone who wanted to share a nest with her—and then, as other creatures feared her powers and dark feelings, she decided to turn away from them, to avoid the heartbreak.

And if so, _how_ —Diaval angrily asked himself _—_ could he have never seen the will and the need in her eyes? They had shared a nest for almost twenty springs, and he had never noticed? What was he thinking? For the painful tears falling from her bright green eyes every night should have been enough to make him aware that the fear and insecurity of her own people.

And if faes were creatures made of rapturous feelings and unimaginable powers, ravens were creatures of loyalty. Ravens don't leave, don't betray, and don't give up. To ravens,  _family_  is a requisite of happiness, and to Diaval, his mistress what was lacking to said requisite to be complete.

He loved her and even if she didn't return his feelings, he would dedicate his life to make her understand—to make her see, to make her _feel_ —how much she was worth literally everything.

"... _It is true?"_  

Aurora was almost wary to respond, "I think it would be better for to listen her voice telling the tale." She advised him.

Diaval gritted his teeth, "But _it is true?"_

The pixie let out a quite sigh, "It is not a pleasant memory."

"It sure isn’t." Diaval grunted. "So this is why she doesn’t—why she has never—" He looked at Aurora then, and there was sorrow on the tears in his eyes, "How could they do that to her? I can't—I wouldn't never—"

Aurora tried to use a firmer tone while trying to calm him down, "We shouldn’t be talking about this. Not when she's not here."

"But hatchling—"

"I know." Aurora's smile was tight. She raised a hand to wipe out his tears and her voice softened, "Even so, she had you. You were there to help her go through all of this."

"I should've noticed." He lamented. "I should've seen it."

"Don't blame yourself, please." Aurora held his face, looking deeply into his eyes. "It's not your fault."

"No." He muttered. "It's _theirs_." Aurora didn't need to look at her aunt to see her wince at his accusations. Anger and sorrow oppressed his voice, and the darkness of his gaze felt upon the pixie, almost like blaming her, "You shouldn’t have told me about this." He said. "It should’ve been Mistress who told me of that."

Thistlewit disagreed, "She wouldn’t tell you, raven man. She’s too ashamed to even admit it herself. And she loves you to much to place this burden on you."

Feelings were felt in the air, and then, pure realization clouded Diaval’s eyes as the pain within his heart was then replaced by the hope forgotten for so many years. His lips parted, trembling—nothing was spoke. Aurora wondered if that had destroyed what could have been the one last chance of happiness to Maleficent and Diaval.

She wouldn’t forgive herself.

A useless thought, really, for the light on Diaval’s eyes was back.

"Are you sure this... _this_  will work?" 

_Are you sure this will be enough?_

"Maleficent also hasn’t eat anything tonight." Thistlewit revealed. "And she has a great appreciation for honeyed walnuts. If your feelings won’t talk to her, the food will."

Diaval remained silent, finally finding great interest on the basket in his hands. The redness of his face was so very alike the colour of the strawberries on the basked and the kindness of his eyes rivalled the sweetness of the honey.

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"The balcony." Thistlewit pointed to an open door, "She’s there. Waiting to speak to you."

Diaval then smiled, and Aurora did the same, "Go now. Go, go, go, go."

And so the Queen watched the raven man practically run to the door. In silent prays, she wished the gods to hear her pleas, "May she accept his gifts. May he be always kind."

Little she knew, but the gods _did_ hear it.

 

* * *

 

 

_"Who preened them?"_

The weather was gentler at night, providing a pleasant breeze and a sky of stars. The bliss of the people was remarkable, and lights came from everywhere, laughter and dancing, food and drink, romance and friendship.

Maleficent took pleasure in the moonlight, and though she was already used to the angry looks of the court, she was bothered by Aurora's sake, and not wanting to spoil such an unique night, she retired to a forgotten balcony, where no one would dare torment her.

The tower was tall, overlooking the human kingdom and the Moors. Not that the sight was news to Maleficent, who flew higher than the clouds and saw things that none human or creature would have a chance to witness.

And yet she was delighted—the moon was so beautiful, and there were so many stars. Aurora called the group of stars 'constellations', imaginary outlines and meaningful patterns on the celestial sphere, representing animals, people, gods or creatures, supposedly helping travellers not to get lost on land or at sea.

Maleficent could not say that she was not charmed by the knowledge that humans had gathered, even though she was fully aware that such knowledge had been brutally stolen from more distant cultures.

Still, the fae watched the sky, hoping to calm her restless heart.

And when she heard the voice of her beloved, tears returned to her eyes, burning and stopping her from admiring the stars.

In a long breath, she swallowed, and kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, chin high and proud.

But her heart betrayed her too—as always—striking so hard against her chest.

" _I_  did."

And of course the first thing he'd notice would be her wings, wondering at the  _"if he hadn’t preened them, who then?"_

Maleficent spent years dreaming about her wings, and the solace that would be preening them one more time. She dreamed that Stefan had never returned to the Moors and that she was still a fae with wings. As she dressed up for Aurora's party, Maleficent noticed how abandoned her wings were, and she was annoyed to realize that she could never preen them with the kind of mastery Diaval had apparently developed.

"They look beautiful."

And her traitorous wings would react to a simple compliment, in the presence of her servant no less, who was now standing next to her, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

Maleficent had seen him earlier—and she could not even look at him in the eye. She only smiled faintly and walked away, knowing too well that Diaval would be hurt even more by her actions.

But she missed him so much that she knew she would not be able to control herself if they were too close.

She was captivated, and would not be afraid to admit, of how handsome Diaval was tonight, dressed in the dark robes of a prince—the definition of pride. But it was the warmth shinning in his dark gaze that reminded her of the most beautiful onyxes, immersed in the deepest rivers of the dark caves on the land of the Moors. And it was his dedication for being there, willing to talk, who equalled the songs of the hummingbird to his potential mate, whom of so shy and quiet waits for his coming to her nest with patience and serenity. And it was his feelings, showed by a shy and understanding smile, who were fair as the brightness of the moon in a starry night, sincere as the colours of spring flowers, and passionate as the bird that continues to seek the best among branches, leaves and flowers to build a nest for its eggs.

His presence brought her immense comfort, but the sudden feeling of tiredness was still there, eating her apart.

"I was meaning to—" She heard him stutter, unsure, and her will was to look at him for one last time. She didn't, though, for if she did she knew he would see her pain, and she didn't want to him to take any pity on her. However, even without looking at him, Maleficent _felt_ the hopeful look he was giving her, as if wishing for her to spare them both, "Ravens are not meant to be good with words but..." He paused to sigh, distress hitting him as a lightning, covering his eyes in an instant, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, mistress." Maleficent would always wonder why she was surprised by his words. "I have no right to require any of your secrets." He continued, "All I want is you to trust me."

Maleficent knew that she had only once hated herself so much for making someone she loves blame himself for things she had caused.

"I _do_  trust you." She found her voice at last. Her wings moved again, and she forced herself to control them, in the great sense of longing that had taken hold of her chest, though she knew her words would have little effect.

Diaval's eyes were now tied in the so ever infinite horizon, reminding her of the bird he was and always would be, "May I share a tale with you?" And despite her eyes denounced her stressful condition, she nodded silently at him, "A fae saved a raven from a nest. They became _servant_ and _mistress_. She would often wake up due terrible nightmare, you see, and for years he would comfort her. One day, out of  _nowhere_ , things changed. Instead of waking her servant up, instead of telling him that such terrible things were plaguing her dreams, the fae just left him there, sleeping, and flew away. He did not even realize. I think she may have cast a sleeping spell on him and such thought is not at all pleasant."

Maleficent felt a lump in her throat, and tried to intervene, "Diaval—"

" _Eventually_ —" Impassivity filled his voice, "—the raven went back to the nest and there she was, his _mistress_ , waiting for him. She told him that she did not bother him because, in her stubborn mind, it was not his duty to worry about her dreams."

"Diaval—"

He turned to her, "As if it was not enough to have her create the habit of not wanting his help on almost anything, now the raven had to see his mistress not wanting to disturb her servant. Who, by the way, swore his life to her service."

She sighed, "I didn’t mean—"

"You promised me you would stop that _no_ _ordering_ thing." Maleficent had readied herself for shouts and perhaps insults. She was speechless to feel a comforting touch her hand, and raised her eyes to meet kind ones. "How many times have we had this conversation? I—" He stopped when her eyes wouldn’t meet his anymore, and his hold on her hand tightened, "You have nightmares. Of that, I know. You don’t need to tell me of them. But I have the right to care for you."

She wouldn't deny it either.

She loved him.

"Promise me you won’t do that again." She felt her heart skip a beat. No, he couldn't. He just _couldn’t_ have possibly forgive her that quickly? "You flew away like I was a _plague_ ," Maleficent flinched at the word and her silence said enough. Diaval’s voice, however, was strong yet kind, because it was okay to be willing to be sorry, "I'm not angry." He was _hurt_  and wanted her to know, "But you don’t need to run from me. I won’t hurt you. I would  _never_  hurt you."

"I know." And there was nothing in this world—except her love for Aurora—that Maleficent was more sure. Diaval would never hurt her on purpose. "I never doubt you."

"Then will you look at me?"

Another hand was tentatively touching her arm, testing waters. It was lost the time in which she would mind anything close to her skin, let alone the touch of a man. Diaval, after the very first set of nightmares that hunted down her soul, had become a constant flame to keep her safe. She had surprised herself at how simple it was for her to surrender into her servant’s warmth. It was a lure to forbidden desires, a trap in which she had set herself since ever, and although there many the times in which she literally burned for more, the comfort and compassion prevailed and she followed a path of a long waited peaceful rest.

Tonight, the slight brush of his skin on hers made her knees weak. The longing was too much, and her own hand found his arm, grasping on the fabric of his coat. Diaval thought of it as a warning, and moved to take a step back, but her hold on his arm tightened and he knew, just then, that he was more than welcome to stay.

When her eyes finally found his again there were many apologies written on them.

"Forgive me."

Make no mistake. From Aurora she didn’t ask for forgiveness, because what she did was unforgivable, as she herself said, and so, why would Aurora forgive her? Again, hoping was too risky. Yet, Diaval made her brave enough _hope_ , or perhaps stupid enough to believe, and he had already forgiven her before she said anything.

"Promise me you won’t leave?"

And to Maleficent, it was all too much. The predominant sweetness in his voice, the exposed devotion in his eyes, his kind nature, along with his unquestionable loyalty, was so clear and so pure.

It was too much.

Enough to make her break.

And so she did.

"I _can't_."

She took too many steps back and turned her back on him, resuming to her early position standing proud and silent before the horizon.

She wasn’t far enough not to hear Diaval whispering, "I can’t understand you most of the time, mistress." And she also heard him walk and the feeling of his warm body walk toward her was intoxicating, close so she could feel his breathing and his hand on the base of her wings, while the other turned her face so she would not deny him anymore, "I wish I could. I'm sorry I can't."

One can think of his innocence as lovely, but clearly excessive for such a clever bird. It made Maleficent even more in love with him.

She grabbed his wrist, "You’re shouldn’t—"

"Maybe." Diaval was smiling softly now. Perhaps the memory of Maleficent berating him for being so affectionate were kind to his mind. "Again, I never minded. Not really. It makes me feel useful."

"I appreciate what you’ve done to me." She spoke in a weak whisper. "I always will."

"Then _don’t leave_." The raven man pleaded, and his heart was full of uncertainties. "Because I won’t and..." His voice trailed off as his eyebrows came together. Suddenly, he was frustrated. "...and you call me _proud_."

Maleficent turned her face back to the horizon, "I never denied I was." She had to speak in a harsh way so perhaps her lack of kindness would make him leave.

Then again, it had never before.

Why would it  _now?_

"I’ve spoken to Thistlewit."

The name of the pixie made Maleficent grumpy, "... _and?"_

This statement left many signs of red cheeks and a shaky voice, "I-I have something I just acquired you need to see."

Oh? That’s new.

The fae merely waited as the raven man grabbed something that was placed on a part of the balcony stone railing that wasn’t illuminated by the moonlight. Maleficent said nothing when the beautiful basket Diaval had in his hands came into full view. Her breathing speed up and Diaval waited silent seconds, observing her reaction closely. Despite his deepest instincts telling him to close his eyes, as well as the annoying voice in his head screamed that would be terrible and overwhelming, Diaval stood still, he was a raven, and ravens were brave. So, for more reasons he could not recognize—or did not even had time to do it—Diaval faced his mistress in the eye.

She seemed too surprised to give him an answer.

"What do you think?"

It took a very long moment for Maleficent to give into some kind of noticeable reaction. Her lips parted as her eyes slowly gazed down at the basket. Her cheeks gained a deep red tone, and her chest burned from lack of air.

_It can’t be._

With a frown, Maleficent allowed herself to breathe again, not managing to prevent the smell of flowers to be processed by her brain, bringing her the vision of flowery fields near the ruins of her nest. It was sweet, and by the way the flowers were joined in a beautiful mix of colours, she could tell that everything was meticulously chosen. Ignoring the pain caused by the fulminant beat of her heart, the fae wondered the most plausible reasons for such care and dedication.

She took her time to examine the flowers, nuts and fruits, until she became interested in the details etched onto the basket's sides, immediately recognizing and linking them to long forgotten times, where festivals of dances, songs and flowery fields could only be seen from a distance by a young fae with wings and horns.

Reason rightly dominated her senses and years of loneliness demonstrated its outcome, for at that moment she showed complete control over her emotions.

_No._

She had to be rational. There was no way her servant could know about the traditions of her people, but then, after years of living with her, it was expected that he had learned something while roaming around.

It didn't even seem to be real, but a dream to be lived once again.

But then, it could be real and what would she do? She was too afraid to find out.

It was not as she did not trust him. Eating something given by another, specifically by a human male, could be a somewhat provocative and dark concept to her, but the confidence deposited on Diaval was big enough to make her never fear him. He had prepared her morning meal before, many times actually, but it was the first time it looked so beautiful, and somehow unbelievable—the perfect vision of a meal.

Was it real? She could not afford the deceive. She had dreamed of this situation so many times that her heart would not take nicely if it were all but a dream. The vision of having him by her side, to be able to enjoy the perfect meal and talk about trivial things was too tempting, and sometimes she had not wanted to wake up, casting spells to avoid so, shamelessly trying to escape what she didn't want to face.

Maleficent shook her head after a moment, not really believing that perhaps she wouldn't need to escape anymore, for maybe she was finally living her dreams.

The frown on her face intensified.

_It can't be real._

"...Diaval?"

Some time had passed before she finally had the courage to face her servant, who could only open his mouth, not answering her though. His breathing became ragged, as if he had run hundreds of miles without stopping. His heart was suffering from the same symptoms, strongly beating in his chest, so much that it caused immeasurable pain. It was as if the air was missing for him to breathe, as if his lungs burned desperately, as if his blood boiled in his muscles by the thunderous speed it runs in his veins, up his neck and cheeks.

"...Maleficent."

The lack of the honorific was missing. To the fae, it didn't sound disrespectful. She knew that now Diaval was anything but her servant.

"What's this?"

Diaval couldn't get his eyes away from hers, and he was so nervous that desperation was tearing his lungs apart. Aurora had told him not to talk, but it was harder to say than to act.

He just had to.

"It's a gift from a mate."

_Oh...Oh!_

The fae's eyes widened. A sudden idea crossed her mind then, and by letting her right hand hover by the basket, she immediately recognized magic coming from within. Not wanting to believe on what her soul was telling her, she drew her hand quickly, and many emotions and memories flashed before her eyes.

_Ah._

She lost interesting on insisting on traditions of which she would not need in her lonely life. However, for what the little she knew, pixies did not mate for life.

_Why did a pixie present her servant with a pretty basket?_

"Maleficent, I—"

_Why did he accept?_

"You're clever enough not to be fooled by other creatures." She spoke quickly, abruptly, her frown deepening as more sharp words left her lips, "Let alone a pixie."

Diaval almost fainted. Of all the things his mistress could have asked, this one was the last he expected.

"I know what I’m doing."

Maleficent pursed her lips, eyes once again falling to the gift. The green of her eyes, sometimes illuminated by hope, darkened suddenly, becoming what resembled the colours of the moss that covers the soil moist. Her hands formed fists as the prominent lines of her jaw became evident, clear was the strength used by her bones. Her blood boiled silently while green magic travelled through her fingers, aware of the evil feelings impregnated in the dark side of her heart, dangerous gnawing her soul and, well, when the purest kind of jealously finally destroyed any kind of line of reasoning she had, it definitely did not help things to get any better.

"Do you know the meaning of accepting gifts in spring?"

Her words were not carefully chosen, for the sound of her voice showed a lot to him, as much as her eyes, betraying her thoughts and confused conclusions. Diaval took almost five years to be capable of detecting her fear, and at that moment, she was terrified.

He was too, completely frozen, not knowing what to do or to say. That annoying voice kept shouting in his ear, and apprehension filled his chest.

Was it  _jealously_ —blatantly exposed—what he saw in those green eyes of hers?

"Y-yes."

Not noticing the tremor on a single word, but not totally ignoring it, Maleficent looked away from her servant's dark silhouette. The lump in throat was getting very painful and she had to swallow it discreetly, the stone floor seeming to be the only refuge for her eyes, which fought the pain for not releasing torturous tears.

She looked back at the flowers in the basket then, no longer ashamed of her own sharp bitterness, and remained quiet.

She barely paid any attention to him as he decided to explain the situation.

"I know now about  _Spring Festivals_." He then smiled slightly, a shaking hand hidden in his robes while the other rubbed his neck. The urge to run away was there, but Diaval resister to it, since there was no turning back to this situation. With a deep sigh, continued with his words, "I didn’t know of them till, well, tonight. I hope you don’t mind."

But Maleficent kept looking fixedly at the flowers—too surprised at the emotions it caused her to notice anything else. Colours and scents reached her face, denouncing her sorrow, poorly hidden by her seriousness and coldness. Her fingers tingled in waiting—she was holding up not to release green flames hot enough to turn these flowers into ashes.

One single honeycomb in a glass jar made her stomach ache, her want for food was becoming almost palpable in her mouth. She loved nuts and fruits, wanted to taste sweet honey, and it would be wonderful to have her meal in the nest every day, her servant's arms around her, warming her blood and soul.

_However._

He knew of their traditions and had agreed with the most important of them, with a pixie nonetheless, and apparently wanted his mistress opinion in a gift he had surely accepted from his...chosen one.

Maleficent closed her eyes. She felt like throwing up. She wanted to scream, to curse and to kill. She wanted to cry and little would matter the humiliation. Let him ask for his freedom, thank her for all those years, and then go to find his soon-to-be mate. If pity was all she could have, so be it. Let pain and abandonment fly by her side, stealing the places destined for a mate and their offspring, for of the so many injustices suffered by her, nothing seemed worse than the fact that her true love had been denied.

Perhaps it would be easier to just walk away. Kind and helpful the way he was, Diaval would not ask for his freedom, and she could not keep him any further—not when he had a mate to please and to love. Regardless of her jealousy, and the strong desire to curse the female who had dared to take him from her, Maleficent must be fair and respect the traditions of her people, even if it hurt more than iron chains severing her wings.

She turned yet again, the final one, to contemplate at what Diaval realized then was not the beauty of the Moors at night, but rather a part of her kingdom in which she refused to go for a time that transcended much more than any human could live.

" _The Meadow_."

Diaval recognized the place as the one where his mistress had strictly forbidden him to go. For years, he did not question it. Today, he understood.

"In which _spring festivals_  take...place?"

If you ask she did that so he wouldn’t find a mate and leave her? That came later, when the pain of the betrayal was no more. Before, though, Maleficent had never allowed him to fly there as she didn’t need him questioning why every creature in the Moors had a mate but her—the kind of humiliation she had no wish to talk about. Was there a point in denying that? Wasn’t it enough what Stefan had done to her? Losing her wings to a human who had poisoned her water because he held no love for her while she had been willing to share her magic with him had him just asked.

Anyhow, Maleficent felt as if it had been her fault for the simple act of trying—of daring to think _love_ was meant not to be just a concept.

She was never an option, she heard some elves say.

She  _agreed_  with them.

"Leave me."

She heard him gasp. It was her turn to try again and forget the events of her fifteenth spring, when she had dared to approach an elf, handsome and kind enough, only to have her gift—a necklace—ignored. The losses of being a hybrid of good and evil were then realized and she never attended to the festivals again. By a cruel joke of fate, sometime later, more precisely on the following season, she met the boy-thief and the rest is legend.

"You—" Her voice failed her, denouncing her weakness and misery, "—you need to leave."

"I  _need?"_ She heard him again. Her moisture eyes fell down to her own hands. She had thrown her pride down on a cliff.

She was not able to choose silence again.

"The festivals await for you."

A frown was shown, the beat of his heart quickening like it had been doing for years. To him, such dramatizations, along with the emotions written thought his mistress' eyes, disarmed him completely, and to be honest, he was incapable of saying if the situation could get any worse.

"The festivals?"

Silence was broken by the laughing coming from the ballroom, men and women dancing and drinking. The wing moved like the beating of a pair of wings, so strong that made the clouds cover the moon. Captive silence soon followed, and darkness involved the air around them.

"You no longer need my permission to attend them." Gods, these words were hard to say. Had she really been capable of which? "Your debt has been paid long ago." She kept talking, the composure extolled to everyone no longer kept, for pain flowed freely through her face, "For longer than eight seasons."

A deep breath followed her conclusion, a sigh only heard because of the silence around them. Even the wind stopped singing, suddenly, as if it knew what was happening between the fae and the raven.

"It was kind of you to share the news with me. I...thank you."  _For everything_ , she lacked courage to add those words, for the little strength that had not been absorbed by sadness was used to form a weak, sad smile, "But you are no longer my servant."

As she refused to gaze upon his silhouette, her pointy ears captured his throat swallowing subtly, his mouth pronouncing a few more needless words, "I don't understand."

Ashamed of her own cowardice, blocking her will of gazing at the one that had soothed her nightmares, persistently brought food in winter afternoons and that had affectionately preened her feathers, Maleficent held to the few good memories she had saved, not knowing if she ever survived something worst.

"You accept her gift." She said, avoiding at all costs the intense gaze he gave her. "In spring."

Their feelings were real enough to be seen in the darkness, which resembled the nights of the Moors, and when their passionate eyes met, words became a need.

" _Her_ gift?"

Her eyes blinked a few times, the tears finally washed her skin from the bitterness contained in her chest.

"Maleficent, no."

There, her name, spoken through his lips, as she had dreamed for nights, but without the craved meaningful words of love.

"Please, look at me."

But Maleficent was unable to do so, keeping eyes away from his kind ones, words playing again and again on her mind: _"I want you to chose me."_ Very pathetic and in vain would be to say those words out loud. What good would it do to tell Diaval the truth, knowing he would not return her feelings? Maleficent was used to deny her heart of so many things.

One more wouldn’t make a difference.

" _Leave_ , Diaval."

That did it.

Diaval shorted the little space between them and cupped her face, to avoid any misunderstandings, the basket again resting by the stone balcony railing, "Must you always complicate things?" He asked not so gently, though he was not rude. Maleficent tried to say something, but he interrupted again, "Must you?" He repeated, more forceful this time, "To think that I would ever be capable of leaving you is absurd enough but to think I'd dare to let myself fall for any other creature that isn't you is... _Ridiculous!"_

A loving smile graced his lips as tearful and puzzled eyes looked up at him.

"How can you not know that I cannot live without you?"

While one hand wiped her tears, the other took one of her hands to place it against his chest.

"For years, you have exerted power over my wings. I was your servant willingly and to serve you was my life duty. You kept control over my soul...and my heart." His hold on her hand tightened a bit. "Can’t you feel it? It's beating for you! It has been for years, and that's something I can't change, neither want to. If you require a proof of my devotion, name it, ask for it, and you shall receive. Anything. Everything! Absolutely. No bonds. I would gladly fly to the end of the world to do so. I may be just a raven, but if I’m meant do be anything in this life given to me, it’s to be yours."

A pregnant pause soon followed, and no words came from the fae's lips. She could only stare at him. The passion described in his features was foreign to her. Not only his actions, but his words still echoed through her mind, and her eyes, soaked in incessant tears, travelled through the beautiful details of his face.

Diaval interpreted her surprise as a confirmation to his thoughts, and in act of valance, he pressed his forehead against hers, sighing in contentment to be able to touch her in a way he had always dreamed of, "I know I don't deserve you." He said, eyes closed, heart out in the open, "I know. I have always been aware of that. I'm no king, prince, wizard, warrior, but a raven supposed to serve his mistress for the rest of his life. But I don't care of my debit. I never did, for it had never been a matter of servitude nor favours, but of loyalty. And above it all, it's a matter of love. For _you_."

His confession felt warm against her face, and Maleficent stared at him wide eyed. Emotions were forming many instabilities and turbulence within her heart, making her dizzy, disoriented by the number of thoughts that ran through her mind all the time. Hope filled her heart in a way she could only compare to the day Aurora’s eyes opened. The voices were talking though, doubting and so she asked, needing to be sure, "The basket is..." She could taste the salt of her own tears, so afraid, "...it is—?"

" _Yours_ , of course." Diaval smiled in such a kind way that it made her heart race painfully faster. "Thistlewit crafted it so I could give it to you."

Maleficent gazed at his lips for a brief second, finding them tempting as the sweetest fruit.

Did he truly mean it?

Did he know of her condition?

She took a step back, "You want a _family_." The hit of the wind against them made her words disappear, and Diaval knew what she meant, and he followed as her gaze dropped to her own hand which rested on her womb in an instinct and Diaval felt so helpless—because for how many times had she felt unworthy due her apparently not acceptable nature?

"You  _are_ my family." His voice carried with much conviction and passion, "Please." He knelt before her, hold strong on her hands, "If you feel the same, then I don’t understand why we can’t—"

"I won’t let you sacrifice a blessed life for a cursed one." She interrupted him in a snarl. "I _can’t_."

Words just made sense on his mind after a moment, and then, he was furious, promptly putting himself into a standing position, "You’d rather sacrifice what _I_  feel?"

"I can’t give you want you want."

Diaval actually snapped, "What I want is  _you!_ What in that stubborn head of yours makes you think I’d want anyone else that isn’t you? Why is that so hard to grasp?"

And Maleficent couldn’t just not tell him.

"I  _can’t_ give you children."

But Diaval thought otherwise.

"You gave me  _Aurora_.”

The meaning of his word hit her like a slap, and the sense of relief was oddly suffocating. Because there is no way this is real.

She tried to fight, “You—but I don’t—"

No vain, "Nothing can make me love you any less.” A pair of hands found her face again, pulling her closer, and she could just let him, eyes closing in submission, “I can only love you more. Just more.  _So much_  more I can't express it with words. And I—I just want you to be  _my_ mate, if you'll have me."

It was, you may think, everything she ever wanted to hear. In fact, it was the opposite—everything she didn't know she wanted to hear because she never was creative enough to think she would ever deserve hearing those things. It made her happy and relaxed even, and so very much alive that she didn’t know how to handle. It made her heart burn in love, in the wonders of the written in the melodies of the water nymphs, used to sing about love and the oldest traditions. But it also made that special flash of light to be born in her soul, and in an instant, her mind was full of thoughts of small faes with ebony feathers and emerald eyes that would never be real.

She couldn’t have them. She acknowledged with her heart. It hurt more than thousands of wings severed in burning iron. But it was as such taking a deep breathe after falling into the cold water. It was relief in the pain of truth. Because she would never see Anton's bravery, Izaak's kindness and Lor's wisdom. She would never kiss them goodnight, would never teach them how to fly, would never feel the warmth of their kisses and embraces, would never hear how much they loved their mother, how much they admired her, how much they found her beautiful. They weren't real—just a production of her own magic joined with her most secret desire, sneaking into her sleep since she found herself in love, so willing to build a family, so alone and broken and delusional.

Along this, there was Diaval. The difference was on that she could have Diaval. He  _wanted_  her—the dark wicked fae most feared to even look at. That was her  _reality_ , a new chance, a world filled with beautiful possibilities, not perfect, but good, so freaking good, that Maleficent felt the will to surrender if only to be fair to him.

And mostly herself.

She had lost count of the many times she had prayed the gods, as a little girl, for the end of her loneliness. Many creatures were made to be alone, many chose to be alone. To Maleficent, it was never a choice.

If the gods decided to answer her pleas after more than fifty years, then she welcomed them.

She was done being alone.

It wasn’t going to settle the pain of her heart—not all, at least—but she was not in the place do deny happiness anymore. She would have what life offered her. If Diaval loved her, so be it. She was never the one to deny her selfish nature.

And she would fight those who dared to question her.

“I will.”

Diaval pulled away so he could stare down at her, the information having settling on his brain quickly.

“You...” A stupid grin settled on his lips, “...you will?"

A broken smile—an end to their discussion, to all fear and doubt, and gone was her fear. Arms enveloped her body, pulling her into a warm embrace. As soon her face was buried in the crook of his neck, her hands sought support in his strong arms, claws clinging to his muscles as if her life depended on it. Tears were heavy on her face and on the fabric of his robes, soft sobs muffled as Diaval held her body against his, fingers running through her hair, a gesture that had comforted her night after night. He pressed his lips to the side of her head, whispering comfort and love and passion and so many things she couldn’t put a name for they were never presented to her before—not truly, never kindly. She was crying and...why would it matter anymore? She wasn’t in control anymore. The lack of sleep, so many nightmares, the small voices of her non-existent little ones who insisted on haunt her mind from time to time.

And now, Diaval and his warmth.

“I love you.” He breathed out, and the tears that followed were happy ones. “ _I love you_.” He was singing, and leaned over, rubbing his nose against hers. “And I can’t believe I can finally say that.”

Maleficent couldn’t prevent the fond laugh that slipped out her lips, “Diaval—”

"I love you." Diaval repeated and felt the fae nuzzle against his chest, and he could tell that the sigh that followed her response was loaded with contentment. "It has always been  _you_. I apologize if I wasn't clear enough. Aurora told me that words wouldn't be needed—that you'd known the meaning of my gift the moment you laid your eyes on it." He smiled, happiness hitting him as a lightning, covering his eyes in an instant, "I love you." He cupped her chin and lifted her face, “I love you. And I’ll repeat it everyday so you’ll believe me and know you’re not alone. Not anymore. Never again.”

Surprise was barefacedly exposed at his words, and the fae stared as silence returned and was prolonged from a minute. The implications and symbolism was...heavy. To her nature, her past, the traditions of her people. It was as if the world started to make sense, just now, in less than a minute, and although her future was not a perfect promise, again—it was a good one.

And Maleficent wouldn't need more of that to think.

She touched with the back of her hand, caressing his scars so lightly before finally leaning in and pressing her lips to his in a so waited kiss.

To Maleficent, it came all of sudden. The feeling of having found her place in the world, the warmth to envelop her soul...she really wasn't expecting it to be so peaceful. She felt the strong beating of a heart against hers, and her confused mind, her dark past, the pain of prejudice, the hate for her own nature, and any worries were long forgotten. Her conscience was lost, and it took her but a moment to reciprocate his touches and let her tongue caress his, taking sighs from his mouth.

Diaval’s spirit obviously appreciated the little experience gained through quite helpful dreams, and he moved his lips against hers with passion.

And the fae let herself be. She kissed him into an oblivion of everything, till she no longer could tell which heartbeat was louder. And she was obviously delighted to feel hands slid down her body and rest on the small of her back, mischievous fingers playing with the small white feathers from the base of her wings.

She whispered her love unwittingly, and made use of her newly acquired impudence to wrap her arms around his neck and press his back against the balcony stone railing. Diaval did not protest, hands resting on her hips in order to settle her against him. A ravishing feeling travelled down his spine, as in his dreams he had hoped for. As her wings stretched out in a little, Maleficent tightened her arms around his neck, and Diaval grew bolder on his kisses, playful and smiling.

They barely knew what they were doing, but the only thing that mattered it was how right if felt. They were allowed to forget the words spoken and truly savour the pleasures released by passion.

They did realize how intimate their actions were, but cared little.

 _True love's kiss_  was it.

"...I love you, I love you, I love you..."

He kept whispering as their lips parted for air, bringing a gentle hand to touch her face, sudden boldness of a raven who loved a fae, and to feel cold fingers caressing her skin, which was bathed by tears by this point, her scarred past become even more evident.

"I’m here."

His touch was the remedy to the sorrow contained in her chest. Her hand found his, keeping it in her face, and she leaned in, conscious to the touch of his fingers on her tears, and hoping the pain to end one day.

I won’t lie and say it will.

"I love you."

For it won’t.

"And I you."

But love is known to be quite the good beginning. Not perfect, no, but good. And good, although a word few would dare associate to someone called after a _magnificent evil_ , is what Maleficent needs the most.

Honestly, it always has been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And before I forget - there will be an extra chapter added to this story. Probably tomorrow if I'm lucky. M-rated cause I couldn't help not writing that scene. 
> 
> See ya!


	6. Bonus Chapter: Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Reality' is almost always not easy to deal with.
> 
> But it is easier to do it with you're not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is the bonus I promised—M rated for...things. :) By far, it is the biggest thing I ever wrote, holy shit - 47 pages long, phew! But then again, I had it accidentally deleted from my pc and it took me weeks to have it fully rewritten, so I’m sorry for the delay. :)

 

"...I  _heard_  you haven’t eat properly tonight."

Many minutes had passed and the couple remained alone by the balcony, touching closely and so freely, content with their intimacy and  _hoping_  this moment to never end.

"...your  _heard_?"

Diaval mumbled a positive response—he had busied himself by planting soft kisses along his mate's exposed neck and shoulders, so talking wasn't an available alternative right now.

 _Not_ that Maleficent was complaining.

"Thistlewit?" It wasn't even a challenge to guess who might been watching her enough to notice her actions...or lack of them.

Diaval pecked her jawline, chin, and then her lips, "There is a  _why_ she chose food as my gift to you."

Maleficent sensed the worry and the care, though her voice was light in its usual sarcasm when it comes to one of the three pixies, "How kind of her."

Diaval rolled his eyes playfully, "Why, no need to be so grumpy. I have to admit she chose well. Apples, berries, even honey to sweet those walnuts you love, and I think I smelled some meat pies and bread, but I didn’t have time to check."

The fae smirked softly, and teased, "Too eager to see me?"

Her mate’s cheeks blushing didn’t prevent him from admitting a rather obvious true. "Well, yes, I was. I missed you and...and I know, I mean, I didn’t but—"

One finger resting over his lips stopped his incessant blabbing.

"Will you join me for dinner, dearest?"

The term of endearment transpired kindness, and it made Diaval brave enough try one of his own, "Anything for you, my love."

So you know, absolutely  _no one_ has ever called her  _like that_ and actually  _meant it_ —she was never anyone  _heart’s desire_ —then you may already guess that the happiness in his voice made her chest swell in joy and her heart skipped a beat.

"Please, my lady," Diaval offered his hand, of which his mate gladly took, and so they walked closer to the balcony stone railing in which their pretty basket was still resting, "Apples, honey, walnuts? What it will be first?"

Maleficent was silent as she choose—she was indeed very hungry and it took a few minutes before she had devoured a little bit of everything the basket had to offer.

"You speak of me neglecting myself while you do the same." As the fae wouldn’t even try to argue with her mate over her more than questionable ways of depriving herself any care, the raven man gave her a pointed look, "Mistress, you surely know—"

"I’m  _not_ your  _mistress_." She interrupted quietly, and Diaval would blink then, taken aback at how quick his reasoning didn’t seem to matter if his mate was sucking away the honey traces on the tip of her fingers, and the fae can only wonder, "It certainly can’t be so difficult to remember, Diaval. You called me by name just minutes ago."

"I, uh, well," She had just grabbed a small amount of walnuts and was so looking causal and free, closing her eyes and sighing as the mix of flavours hit her tongue, to again lick her fingers, then her lips. Diaval’s eyes followed every movement of her tongue. He was completely focused, not even blinking, and as Maleficent finished her meal, her mate couldn’t remember his own name, "It...it will be difficult to...to...to break a habit of years, but...but...but..."

The fae, little the time she took to note what was making her mate totally incoherent, hummed in amusement, "...but  _what_ , dearest?" and she couldn’t help the strong wish to tease him senseless now that she knew she wouldn’t be rejected.

And, well, Diaval turned into a mess, "...Maleficent." He tested the name on his tongue, finding pleasure on how it sounded under his voice. " _Maleficent_." He repeated, devotion colouring  _everything_ , "Maleficent, may I kiss you?"

And her eyes lost their playfulness to give place to the lust brought by his words, which tasted like a prayer, a way of worshipping, and she could only and simply touch his lips in a heated kiss.

The raven man responded in kind, and the fae would rejoice in the warmth of their bodies pressed together.

Even before the betrayal, she was never one to allow others to touch her. Because no one ever wanted to touch her, so it wouldn’t make a difference if she let others know she craved for physical contact.

When it comes to Diaval, you can imagine,  _touching_  felt ridiculously natural and comfortable, as if she had done it for years. In fact, for years she'd held him at night in search of the kind of comfort she believed she did not deserve.

 _Now_  it was different.

They were in a balcony of a huge castle, and anyone who dared to sneak by would see them so close and happy. And there was no shame or excuse to be like this—they were a couple, and it was obvious that they could touch each other without any regrets.

Maleficent wondered if the absurd ease in which she accepted her mate’s contact was due to the absence of years or to the fact the who was touching her was the man she so dearly loved. She concluded it was both, and that mattered little. Diaval could touch her whenever he felt like, nothing would be forbidden, and the lack of limits that had been once unthinkable, was now more than welcome.

How curious, though, it was that the first man she loved had no care for her at all, to the point he severed her wings from her back, while the second (and last) man she would ever love blatantly worshipped her— _and_  her wings.

"I love you..." He would say amid their kisses, moaning in appreciation to feel the sweet taste of her mouth, "...and I love your wings..." and Maleficent didn’t find in herself the will to stop him, neither had she wanted to, "...they are as much beautiful..." His hands sneaked up from her waist to the base of said wings, fingers teasing and making goose bumps run freely across her spine. "...although they do need a proper preening."

His sudden (and typical) self-assured tone made the fae chuckle, "My work is not up to your standards?" She whispered against his lips.

Diaval actually paused to ponder—he was terrible at doing many things at the same time, "It’s a different way to put things." He heard a short, deep snort express the fae’s indignation, "It is my  _duty_  is to care for my mate’s wings," He tried to explain, which didn’t seem to work very well as Maleficent was now raising an eyebrow at him, "What? It is! At least, it is for ravens."

Maleficent sighed. She was in no mood for arguing. Also, Diaval preened her wings with such care. She had missed him dearly. "Will you preen them?" She asked.

A prompt grin, so ready to please, "Once we get back to the nest." He would’ve go on with his plans had not his mate tensed at the mere mention of that very special place in the ruins, "Unless that is not your wish, my love?"

Maleficent shook her head, "I’m afraid I... _forgot_  about the nest."

"It is not abandoned, in case that’s what you may be thinking. It has been just a few days. We could just reclaim it." Her eyes leaked gratitude but there were sadness too, "The past is in the past, my love." Diaval held her face, looking deeply into her eyes, "It doesn’t matter anymore. We can return back to our nest and everything will be fine."

_Our nest._

Oh, her heart was fluttering and it was  _so_  loud.

It felt  _so_  wonderful.

"Thank you." She said.

Diaval smiled in return, "We may go by the end of the festivities, if you want and— _oh_."

There was a crinkle on the raven man’s brow and Maleficent brought two fingers up to soothe it away.

"What troubles you, dearest?"

The crinkle returned worse.

"Is it... _selfish_ I have no wish to return to the festivities?"

His sincerity made her laugh, " _Bored_  already?

Diaval was pouting adorably now, reminding Maleficent of their little beastie. If they were in any other situation, she would willingly abandon everything and everyone and fly to her nest with her beloved, forgetting about the rest of the world. Nevertheless, she remained strong, no matter how much she wanted to leave, for tonight belonged to her daughter and Aurora most definitely deserved all praise and love.

"We can’t just leave, Diaval. The little beastie invited us here." She reasoned, and the raven man seemed to give in, "I thought you were enjoying the evening taking the amount of pies you ate in less than ten minutes."

Diaval raised a finger in his defence, " _First—_ those pies were very good.  _Second_ —there weren’t so many. Three— _wait_ , you were not there to see me at dinner." His confusion turned into a triumphant smile, "Spying on me, weren’t you?"

Maleficent ignored the fact she was caught, and nudged her mate’s right side, "Is there any additional reason you don’t wish to go back?"

"Other than losing any privacy with you?" The fae nodded, and then the light atmosphere was gone. Diaval's gaze became serious suddenly, lost in his own thoughts. Maleficent was curious and then concerned. She fondly tapped two fingers on his cheek and his attention turned to her.

"What troubles you, dearest?"

He sighed, "Going back to the little hatchling’s festivities would...it  _will_  result on... _others..._ looking at you and...and I don’t know why the thought of it makes me angry." Maleficent's eyebrows rose in interest at the shy demonstration of possessiveness. Which just added to make Diaval nervous and look away, insecure and embarrassed, "You noticed, yes? And I heard them whispering. Obviously. And I can’t even blame them for looking at you, I mean,  _look at you_." His eyes touched her figure from head to toe, and Maleficent smiled, shaking her head, nuzzling his jaw line as he wouldn’t stop talking, "This is completely inappropriate, is it not? You're not an object and here I am, treating you like one." He was playing with the fabric of her robes, always feeling if his way of thinking would make his mate tense, if such a strange will to own and protect was too out of line, "You are free to do and act as you wish, my love. I won’t dare dictate now, after so many years serving, how you take your life—"

"—however I take my life involves you from now on, Diaval." Maleficent told him. "We  _are_ bonded."

The raven man nodded, "I know and I couldn’t be happier, I just—I apologize. That was uncalled for."

To ease his worries, Maleficent pecked his chin, " _Jealously_  is good, in a healthy pattern."

Diaval gulped, "...is it?"

"I feel it too."

"You do? Why?"

Maleficent huffed, "I was not blind to those noblewomen ogling you, begging for a dance."

Diaval was annoyingly surprised by this, "They wanted to dance with the one called  _the Queen's godfather_ , not  _Diaval_."

A bite on his lower lip—a gentle warning, "I don’t like sharing."

Diaval knew that, "My beautiful self is all yours, mistress."

Maleficent would've corrected him if she didn't knew he did it on purpose—as if stating her claim on him. And it made her smirk. She would no longer deny her feelings—be them love, hope, compassion, lust, or possessiveness. And if Diaval was  _hers,_  she would make sure everyone knew.

Which reminded her of something very important.

"Has Thistlewit told you I must gift you in return to your proposal?"

That almost made Diaval jump, such was his enthusiasm.

"Can it be shiny?"

Maleficent grinned. It took seconds for memories from the time she was but a child to hit her head with thousands of ideas. Summoning her magic, two azure stones were created. Then, she selected a flower from the pretty basket still resting by the balcony stone railing and with a little bit more of magic, a pair of silver rings was formed, one particularity smaller than the other, both having dark azure gemstones encrusted on them.

Diaval was totally captivated by the pair of silver little things, "May I?" He asked, holding out his hand.

Maleficent merely nodded, and watched as he slid the smaller ring on her middle finger, to then slid the larger one on his. Then, he interlaced his fingers with hers, and the fae loved the way his skin felt warm and welcoming and like home, and how incredibly large his hand was when compared to hers, rings shining together against the moonlight.

Upon returning her gaze to his, what she saw was a smile, gained through the freedom contemplated by the position they were in. Maleficent let her free hand slid through the raven's neck, up to his hair, stroking it and scratching his skull with her fingers, then plunging the feathers of his head as she searched for any doubt, any regret, finding only the love hidden for more years she was allowed to think of. For to do so was to recognize how much time was lost on revenge and anger, and it pained her heart to realize this could’ve been hers for a long time already.

It has, in fact, always been  _hers_.

She just wasn’t brave enough to see it.

"I love you," came the whisper and the smile, warm as the back of her hand slid down his right cheek, fingers resting on his lips, which parted slightly at the tempting touch, denouncing his breathless condition.

And Diaval's heart was beating so fast that his voice seemed to be lost on him. When he found it some strength to speak, was only to whisper, "...my love?"

She now was the one not to wish to leave the balcony, "...yes, dearest?"

Diaval was smiling, "I suspect the little hatchling wishes to know if her parents are done being alone."

Maleficent turned immediately,startled by the sudden presence of her little beastie, who was no longer hiding behind the door that separated the balcony from the ballroom.

The fae felt her cheeks flush, not knowing exactly what Aurora might have witnessed. She would not be embarrassed, she felt that Diaval also wasn’t, but she understood that it was not appropriate for her daughter to see her godparents exchanging so intimate caresses.

Although, from Aurora's gaze, she was so happy to see them together.

"Beastie—"

"Are things settled now?" the Queen asked anxiously, taking two steps closer to them.

Diaval's smiled turned proud, and he secured his arm around his mate's waist, nodding.

Aurora's eyes lit up, and she smiled beautifully, but she could not say anything, bringing her hands to her face and wiping away the tears that fell from her eyes.

"Oh, little hatchling." Diaval quickly walked to Aurora to wrap her in a strong, protective embrace. "Those are tears of happiness, yes?" The young Queen sobbed, and then nodded. "You know we could not have done it without you?" He took the Queen's face in his hands, "And how you knew how to handle such stubborn minds, I cannot say."

And Aurora laughed, amused, and the tears insisted on falling, "It was worth it." She said.

Diaval kissed her forehead, "Please, forgive us for the trouble anyway, we just..." He shared a look with Maleficent, whose eyes were gentle and loving, "...we didn't find ourselves worthy of each other."

Aurora huffed, "So stubborn."

Diaval laughed, "Indeed, but it's settled now."

"And..." She looked down, fingers playing with her robes, her voice hopeful and shy, "...does that mean I may call you  _Father_  from now on?"

The smile on the raven man's face fell away, and a look of pure surprise took over. Aurora wanted to laugh at his comic expression, while Maleficent observed her mate, curious to know of his reaction. He couldn’t have been more sincere if he tried. His eyes were filled with tears.

"...w-why?" He asked then.

"Godmother is  _Mother_ to me, so I hoped..." Her voice became so small, as her figure seemed to shrink from uncertainty, and her arms surrounded herself, seeking for warmth, "Doesn’t need to mean anything, I suppose. You don’t need to—"

"But I’m not worthy."

Aurora apparently learned to how to give someone a proper cold glare, and Diaval knew then that he had spoken a great deal of nonsense.

_"That is her choice to make, not yours."_

Maleficent walked directly to the young Queen, who accepted her embrace although her frown did not disappear. The fae laughed at it, and kissed the space between her eyebrows, relieving the tension in Aurora’s face, "Ignore what he says." She told the Queen, "Your Father can be very foolish when he wants to."

And Aurora giggled, while Diaval let out a whelp of indignation.

"I love you both so much." Finally, said the Queen, causing Diaval to move and put his mate and his daughter into his arms.

"It is an honour to be loved by you." His voice deepened, and he no longer held his emotion. "Thank you, little one."

The silence that followed their embrace was comforting and Maleficent knew then that she couldn’t love them more that she already did. It was an everlasting pure feeling, powerful and passionate and honest, and she almost gave it up for fears that existed no more.

Through her whole life, she also truly struggled to understand why whatever  _goodness_ would happen to her—a hybrid that had been fated by nature to be alone. It was the result of being emotionally neglected: that old unfamiliarity when it comes to affection.

If, by chance, she agreed to be completely honest, she would say she never really believed in her heart that any moment of pure joy in her life had been indeed real. She once theorized on projections of her own mind joined with her magic, perhaps some kind of illusion with a touch of self-pity—which came to happen later, yes, in the form of dreams about three little faes she loved so much.

Within reason, those little who dared to actually get to know her may think she was being paranoid. She never denied not to be, though she also didn't appreciate the thought. She was a very suspicious fae, and she had too much pride to admit her mistakes and flaws—and because it was painful to do such. She would, she knew very well, always have a hard time to understand that  _true_   _love_  and  _merciful acceptance_  finally came to pass to her.

Yet again, it all seemed simple and incredibly easy that she was surprised at how quickly she just... _gave in_. She knew she was happy beyond measure, as if she hadn’t been in her whole life, and if by chance this was a dream, she would unmercifully kill whomever creature or god had tricked her, as well curse anyone who tries to wake her.

She had waited too much to have her happy ending, after all.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The return home flight took place a few hours later.

Aurora, having her joyful nature returned due the news of her parents’ union, danced and talked and greeted many different people. The young Queen loved her people—supposedly more than a ruler should. She would have offered a toast if it the union of two people without the need of a ceremony didn’t sound so strange to the inhabitants of the human kingdom. Their presence enough was scandalous, although Aurora knew that some would approve of the new traditions.

Wanting to avoid arguments, the young Queen simply enjoyed the rest of the night. She wouldn’t allow her happiness to be infected by the animosity of her guests.

The night progressed without any incidents, and little by little the people started leaving, and Aurora insisted on staying up until the last guest left her castle—though her advisors insisted that the party could go on without her presence.

"Time to rest." Maleficent whispered to the young Queen, chuckling as the girl muttered something in a drowsy voice. She was in her chambers, cosily lying under the many covers of her bed. The servants had already left for the night. The castle was silent in an interesting contrast to the party that finally ended few minutes ago.

Her parents watched over her rest, not wanting to leave till they were sure everything was fine to their hatchling.

"Thanks for coming." Aurora then said, opening her eyes to reveal a typical weariness of someone who danced all night. "It means a lot to me."

Maleficent shared a look with her mate, who watched their interaction with a loving smile.

"It was an honour." She leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Now, you should rest."

Aurora whined pathetically, "Do you have to leave?" Then, she yawned, "I don’t want you to leave. And yes, I know this is selfish, but..."

"We would love to stay, little one." Diaval spoke as he stroked her golden hair, and the young Queen sighed in contentment, "But I fear that’s not a good idea."

They all  _knew_  of the hatred that many nobles had for Maleficent’s persona, but that went unspoken.

Aurora's face was filled with sadness once she realized what her parents were saying. She wanted to contest them, but she knew they were right, "I wish I could make them understand how important you are to me," she said.

"They know." Diaval told her, "You invited us here, and you call us father and mother, then—"

"—they should respect you. Because I do. I love you."

Maleficent smiled, "We love you, too. But you cannot impose your desires on the people, having so little time in which Diaval and I ceased to be enemies to the humankind."

"But—"

"Therefore—" Diaval cut her off gently, and the young Queen sighed, "Let's take this slowly, hm? One thing at a time."

The young Queen huffed, "I will not accept gossip, Father. Absolutely no one speaks lies of my family and gets away with it."

Maleficent smirked, "Look, Diaval. The little beastie has fangs."

Aurora let out a grunt of complaint, and her eyes closed, sleep quickly wrapping her mind,  _"...I’ll miss you"_  being the last thing she whispered before she was lost in dreams of the most beautiful kind.

Maleficent wished she could watch her sleep, "Good night, my daughter." She leaned in and kissed her forehead, smiling as the heard a little snore.

She left the Queen's chambers in quite steps, closing the door behind her. Turning to Diaval, she was caught out off guard by a sudden kiss. She took a second to recover herself, and cupped his face, pulling away as if trying to figure out the whatever he meant by it.

The raven man simply rested his forehead against her, and smiled so lovingly that it took her breath away, and she chuckled softly, stroking his cheeks.

"Let’s go home?" He asked.

They walked to the edge of the balcony, spreading their wings and swimming toward the highest clouds.

Aurora, although blacked out, smiled dreamily, and her heart was filled with happiness and peace.

Seeing her parents happy was the best birthday gift she could have ever received.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

" _Home Sweet Home!_  Now we can—"

Diaval fell silent at his feet touched the nest—the pretty basket in his hands finding the floor in a poetic fall. Maleficent was right behind him, and her jaw tightened before the sight.

The nest in the ruins was in ruins. One would have expected it to be after a week of abandonment and neglect, but the situation was so chaotic that it looked like a hurricane had destroyed everything—probably in the form of some thieving sprite who plundered their things. The floor was dirty and filled of dried leaves, the blankets were torn and wet from the rain that had come in through the window that no longer had curtains.

Maleficent blamed herself for this and more, and quickly wanted to repair her damage.

"Someone was here." She said as she checked on the open chest placed by the right side on her bed. She cursed as the noticed that not even her grows were intact. The same could be said about the small things Aurora had gifted her over the last two years—among jewellery, cloaks, leather gloves, a small mirror and a bottle of mead.

Either stolen or shattered to pieces.

Diaval was not happy at all, "I cannot believe it!" He spoke as he walked around, muttering endless curses as he calculated the damage done to his nest. He was very vain, even to a bird of his kind, so all that mess made him crazy. "How could anyone do this?"

Maleficent tried to identify any traces of magic that had been left behind, but clearly the attacker of her home was not a creature of the Moors.

She sighed, and moved her hand in a circle, and the fireplace was lit.

The mess became even more evident with the light of the fire, and Maleficent watched her mate sit on the edge of her— _their_  bed, frustratingly putting his hands on his head.

"This is outrageous!" He exclaimed indignantly. "And they call us  _savages_!" Maleficent rescued the pretty basket from the floor, placing on the nest as she sat down beside her mate. Her presence relaxed Diaval immediately, and he intertwined their fingers, "But it's nothing we cannot fix, no? It may take days, but—"

"Or I can use magic," The fae suggested, and the raven man sighed.

"It's the most practical, yes."

"You can change whatever you like, Diaval." Maleficent made sure of adding, "This is your nest as well."

"I know." Diaval searched her lips for a soft kiss, "But I trust my mate's taste in decoration."

Maleficent rolled her eyes affectionately, loving this raven even more.

"I have a request, though."

The fae smiled, "Anything for you."

Diaval seemed suddenly uncertain, and hesitated before taking a breath and saying, "I provide the food—unless the weather won’t help, of course. Apart from that, no sprouting trees or brushes from the ground. Can we...agree on that?"

Maleficent stared at him curiously, "...why is it about you preparing me meals?"

Diaval gulped, lowering his head in a shy way that did not match his extroverted personality, "I...you know that raven males are providers. There is no need of me, because you have your magic. I just...want to feel useful."

"You are." Her eyes reflected the light from the fireplace, and her fingers were so swishing over his face that it felt like a feather touching his skin. Diaval closed his eyes for a moment, purring at the affection. "More than you may know."

This time, he smiled proudly, "I adore taking care of you." he said as he opened his eyes to look at her closely, "Just...please?"

That damned pout.

"Has the beastie instruct you to pout at me whenever you want something?"

Diaval visibly panicked, "What? No, of course not. I mean, Aurora? Our little beastie? Of course not." The fae only needed to arch an eyebrow at him, "Fine, yes. I mean, it seemed so effective."

Maleficent let out an exasperated sigh, "Very well." She finally conceded and Diaval was so happy that he stole a kiss. The fae hummed her appreciation, grinning against his lips, "...anything else? Perhaps a new set of clothes?" The few ones he owned were given by herself, but were tore part by whoever destroyed their nest, and the ones he was wearing had been Aurora's gift and although Maleficent found him very handsome on them, they were not what he was used to. Just, too many layers.

"I might need them, right?" A red tone washed his face when his mate raised an amused eyebrow him, "Not that this ones are not fancy enough. Just...not suitable to sleep, I suppose? You don’t need to do anything, I mean, I can just take them off or—"

" _First_ ," She moved both hands, allowing magic to run through her fingers, "We fix this mess."

And in a touch of magic, everything returned to its place, only in a different way.

Alive—typical of spring.

Flowers floated as lanterns, shining in different colours. The floor was nothing but clean, and the old brick walls were an ornate by pattern of vines that slipped on all sides, forming designs and hugging the furniture limited to a larger chest, chairs and a table in which the pretty basket, as well as ceramic pots and jars rested modestly. The bed was lined by fur and blankets and pillows. The dried leaves were reduced to fuel to the fireplace. The curtains decorating the now larger window were revamped into a dark blue fabric that gleamed, imitating the stars.

A soft perfume of flowers wafted through the air. It reminded Maleficent of a garden and overall looked very old-fashioned.

She couldn’t say she was surprised, though. She was always told that her magic would reflect her state of mind, and if she was happy, her magic would know. It was the only explanation for such a beautiful nest.

And she'd have smiled if not, among the first things she noticed looking around, for the still _empty_  spot on a forgotten corner.

As if her mind still silently hoped for a change that would not come.

"My love, this is beautiful! This is—" Diaval turned happily to her, and his face fell as he noticed the tears on her face, "Wait, are you—my love, what's wrong?"

Maleficent was not startled by the words, but to the evidence of tears washing her face without her even realizing it. She touched her cheeks and felt them, heavy and salty, and wiped any traces with the back of her hand.

"I’m fine." She said.

Diaval, not convinced by the answer he got, tried again and candled her face so they would look into each other’s eyes, "I'm your mate. You can trust me to share your fears with."

Maleficent kissed his right hand in an apology, "I won’t have secrets with you." She felt compelled to tell him first. "But I know for sure how cruel of me is to want to share such burdens with you."

"You’re not a burden to me. You’re my mate. And I love you."

The fae tried for a smile, but the torment would have no end if she did not create a distraction. She felt agitated but fully tired, and soon knew what her lover could do to comfort her, "Would you mind preening my wings?"

It could be a wonderful idea taking her tired condition, as she always fell asleep when he preened her wings, so perhaps that was the relief she needed to forget her past and focus on the beautiful future ahead of her.

Diaval pressed a soft kiss to her temple, "You don't need to ask."

And a soft smile emerged on his face as he watched his mate sat gracefully by the nest, closing her eyes in waiting. Diaval settled himself behind her and, ever so gentle, placed his hands on the lowest part of her back and started preening his mate’s wings with the ever so usual angelical care.

It proved to be an alluring temptation on both sides. Maleficent couldn’t keep the sighs escaping from her lips as much Diaval would be more bold on his caresses, and then he wasn’t preening her wings anymore, but stimulating her skin while discovering new ways to take sighs from her mouth.

Things got messy when he pulled her hair aside to have a better access of her back, and before he knew he had an arm wrapped around her middle, kissing the base of her wings as if his life depended on it.

" _So_  beautiful..." He whispered faintly, reaching out to grab her hand and interlace their fingers. "So,  _so_  beautiful..."

Maleficent was gasping and moaning within seconds, "...what...what are you doing?" She barely managed to ask.

Diaval’s kisses stopped and Maleficent immediately regretted having saying anything at all, "I...I just love them so much." And oh, she felt like crying. Because no one had showed her so much love and adoration and care. The fibres of her body were awake and on fire—there was no control, just want and desire.

_"...don’t stop."_

He obeyed her and was daring, and his kisses turned into licks and then he was sucking and biting and her back would arch, and whimpers would escape her lips and her wings would flap in incoherent reactions, her hands holding his arms around her middle for dear life. Because he was  _kissing_  her wings. Nothing else felt that good before.

"I love you..." He kept saying, and his kisses found her neck and shoulders, "...I love you so much."

His passion spoke out to her own, and she reached behind and hooked her arm around his neck, guiding his face to hers and capturing his lips in a kiss that renewed her energies and made her happy by only tasting his lust and basking on his warmth. His hold on her waist tightened considerably, and she sighed, knowing she had found  _home_.

They soon became lost in kisses that had been denied for so long, both now lying down on the nest, she on top of him, kissing and biting, hands searching and feeling. Neither of them was to deny right away what was to come, implied in silent touch. Added by the intimacy of the situation, so innovative for both of them, a required passion was no longer foreign, setting fire on their desire to give themselves to each other.

But when Diaval began to react to her touches, he suddenly felt ashamed of the memories and dreams of the present situation. Almost immediately, he pushed her away and sat up, flushed and breathless.

Maleficent, burning with desire as never before, was undoubtedly dazzled and confused when everything ceased so suddenly. At first, she assumed that she was being too forward in her passion, but when she saw a bulge between her mate’s legs, hard and salient against the fabric of his pants, she began to understand the reason for the raven man's shyness.

And he, realizing she had noticed his outstanding desire, turned away, failing miserably on trying to explain himself, "I’m s-sorry, I—" Maleficent was frowning now, eyes ever observant and already knowing too much, and Diaval felt his head spinning, trying to focus on his next words. "It...it might be better if we rest." He spoke, "Y-you cannot go without resting. It...it is not a healthy practice."

Maleficent's frown deepened, "Diaval—"

"W-we could sleep?" He suggested, making sure to look at everything but her, "You know you can get very...very angry when you don’t sleep. Actually, you get furious. It's almost scaring. I don't want to—"

" _Diaval._ "

The raven man was silent in an instant. For Maleficent, such an attitude didn’t make sense taking the way he had kissed her. Besides, she knew pretty well what she wanted—she wanted him with her, as her lover, she wanted to mate him—and she had felt, literally, that he shared her thoughts. Why was he running away? Was he afraid of her? Maybe it was all very new to him? Too fast?

"Look at me, dearest." She tried to use a gentle tone, but it was evident that the raven man was avoiding her. She gave into a sigh, "Look at me. Now."

And so he did, shyly, but he did, and it disarmed her completely. The emotion of his eyes was surprising and the number of things it could represent to her, to both of them, made her face blush, and her heart was at the point of exploding in love.

"What troubles you?"

He didn't answer her right away. His mind was occupied in reminding him of the many times he had flown through the human realm. And he had, quite shamefully, overheard a few human conversations.

By entering barns, houses, huts—and even the castle—when no one was watching, his understanding had been increased in a quite productive way. Diaval knew the magic within his beloved's nature, it was obvious she wasn't human. The raven man was not sure if he should let things go on so quickly—despite his absurd lust being a pang to his male senses. His desired to mate was enthralling, and he could feel it would be the strangest and strongest of impulses—he wasn’t in control, he could barely control his thoughts. As methodical as ravens were, Diaval wanted to do things properly, his bird nature begged him to, and if his paranoia was going to ruin such a special night with his beloved, he knew he had to distract his mind from  _doing things with her_ , in the first place.

"Diaval...?" Her eyes wandered over his face, not truly finding a resolution. His lack of response was now unsettling, though it had no reason for it. It was odd that he was the one that didn’t feel ready to take that kind of step. Unless— "Do you know what happens between... _intimately_  between mates?"

Diaval nodded too many times that left Maleficent intrigued.

So he knew what happened and didn’t want to fully engage into it? She could think in very few reasons, from fear to disgust. Or... _perhaps_  he thought it was a useless act as no offspring would be born from it? Possible, though it didn’t help. It was a maddening situation. The man she loved clearly enjoyed touching her wings at the same time he couldn’t help on how his body reacted, and so there was nothing more they could do than... _kissing._

Well, then.

Maleficent silently swallowed the sharp pang of disappointment that crossed over her heart. She had always imagined that once— _if_ they ever got together, Diaval would act as the bold creature he was...and would ravish her day and night. She didn’t even blush at the thought. She wasn’t ashamed of what she felt. She wanted him to make love to her. She needed to feel him—needed to feel wanted, desired, needed to be connected to him in such intimate way so the pain would go away. She craved for that kind of assurance.

But he would need to wish the same.

He didn’t.

_Damn it._

Maleficent could convince herself—with lots of persuasion—that she could live with kisses, only. That small touches were just fine to soothe the fire within her heart. But it certainly didn’t hurt any less knowing that of the many things she had been denied through her life, one more was added to the list— _intimate physical contact_. She had always wanted to know how it was like to dance as lovers have done since the beginning of times—why other creatures spoke so highly of how magical it felt to have your soul and body joined to another.

Yet she loved Diaval way too much to impose any wishes on him. He had already sacrificed the chance of an offspring to be with her. Maleficent wouldn’t ask for more.

"You—" She bit her tongue, ending any suggestions. Asking him to sleep as a raven for  _tonight_ — _for some time—maybe forever_ —would make her life a lot easier, yes, but she couldn’t. This was  _their_ nest and Diaval deserved to rest in the form he saw most fit. Sure, it would be a battle not to deflect her frustration, and yes, she had no idea how to manage being so close, knowing she could kiss him and that’s it. Nightmares and then dreams of little faes—she (badly) knew how to deal with them, but she  _knew_. When it comes to her passion, so alive and raw, she needed time.

Forcing a smile, she said, "Let’s rest."

Diaval hesitated, "...I apologise if I—"

"Let’s rest." She insisted. She would never voice her wishes because she didn’t need Diaval feeling guilty over this— _passion_  was just a part of the union between lovers, she didn’t need it to survive—she wanted to have a taste, to feel it in her skin. Life thought otherwise—and like many other things,  _lust_  wasn’t something she deserved.

She hated as much she accepted it.

And she would’ve moved away had not Diaval reached out to grab her hands, and she felt forced to face him.

His eyes were vulnerable in a way she had never seen before, "I’m sorry for...I just...I can’t help, I...I'm sorry." Diaval lowered his head, ashamed, and Maleficent felt her heart tighten, "I didn’t mean to offend you."

A hand touched his face, "You have never offended me."

Diaval eyed her strangely, "Then why you don't sound happy?"

Oh, the way she would sigh so deeply told him wonders.

"...it doesn’t matter how I feel."

Diaval gaped—actually,  _squealed_ , "Of course it does!" He exclaimed. "You’re my mate and…" Now he was blushing. He was not finding strength in himself to deny his own desire, "...and there is nothing I wish more than...than to be with you...intimately."

_Wait, what?_

"You do?" She would’ve been more eloquent, but it was like she had lost her voice, and her gaze dropped to his lips for a second before finding his eyes again. Did he really—? Oh, she would be kissing him senseless if she wasn’t so confused, "What’s stopping you?" She asked.

The blush on her mate’s cheeks deepened. To have thoughts on the pain that would come to her did not help him to forget how much he wanted to lose himself within her, but he had to try.

"I’ve never felt  _this_ so...so strongly. I can barely think and...and...I want to... _do_  so many things."

Maleficent licked her lips, her mouth getting dry at the words spoken in hot passion. She had many ideas of what she wanted him to do to her, and of what she wanted to do to him.

"You are ought to feel this way, dearest." She almost purred.

Diaval was trembling, "But I m-may hurt you and...and I wouldn't be able to live knowing..." and sounded very afraid of himself, "...k-knowing I hurt you by any chance. I-it...it happens to human women when they lay with their husbands and I...and I don't want to hurt you.  _I c-can’t_."

"You won’t hurt me, Diaval." Maleficent had to admit that she found her mate's concern quite lovely, and the confused expression he was offering at her grin was, without a sign of doubt, the most amusing thing she has ever seen. Her beloved raven couldn’t understand why such feeling was so overwhelming.

And she would be more than glad to make him see.

And  _feel it_.

"But—"

"I'm not a fragile flower." Her skin was as soft, but Diaval would rather show it than saying it, "And I don't care about pain." She continued, "It can't be worse than what the gods have placed upon me."

" _Iron weakness_  has nothing to do with this matter, mistress—"

"The name is  _Maleficent_." She smirked at the frown on his face, "And she's not human. Human women have been cursed in the beginning of times. So have men and their world. Fairies and consequently faes have not."

"Are you sure?" The raven man asked, causing Maleficent to roll her eyes, "Oh, don't be mad at me, I'm trying to make things clear before...before we do anything, I mean, you must see I don't want you hurt while I—it’s not fair."

"Life is not fair, Diaval." She said matter-in-fact, "But I was never afraid, was I?"

Diaval was silent by the feel of her eyes gazing upon his, eliciting a curse from his throat.

"Why you look at me like—?"

 _Too late._ He was cut off by a passionate kiss, though the hands touching his face were gentle, sliding fingers down his cheeks, up to his hair. And it was so overwhelming that not even Maleficent was expecting the passion of it. But, as much it had been unexpected, it was welcomed.

_There was no turning back now…_

"You won’t hurt me." She said as she crawled her way to sit on his lap.

Diaval’s voice was ragged, eyes tightly shut, "H-how can you be so sure?"

She wouldn’t know. She had no experience to share, she had never done any of this with anyone. No one but Diaval had touched her so. She was glad he would be her first and last. She wasn’t ignorant, however, and knew very well how nature worked.

Above all, she trusted her mate with her life.

"You’re my wings." She said.

_You never faulted me. Not even once._

"P-promise me you will tell me if I hurt you? Please, p-promise me."

Maleficent whispered her promise as she planted an almost chase kiss over his lips. Her hands clutched her grip on his chest, revelling in the fabric of his robes. Diaval was hesitant at the beginning, holding back, more thinking and panicking than feeling and enjoying the moment.

His mate sensed his worry, and whispered, "Touch me."

Tentatively, his hands slid up her sides, squeezing here and then. She took it as a sign to grow bolder, and licked his lips, and he groaned, tasting her tongue with his.

Sighing in relief, she worked on assisting him on taking of his coat and vest. Then, she was unlacing the handkerchief around his neck and unbuttoning his shirt, her hands trembling as they moved up to his shoulders, and she inwardly thanked Diaval for taking the hint and pulling his shirt off, letting it fall by the nest.

The first thing to caught her eyes was the set of scars protruding through her mate's skin. A feeling of possession took over her heart, making her understand the passion within her chest, accepting it without complaints. Smirking, she let her fingers delineate the large scar over his stomach.

A sigh echoed through Diaval's mouth, and he leaned in so his lips could touch hers.

It was sweet and heated. Maleficent whispered words of encouragement to his mouth, waiting for him to fulfil her need and undress her as soon as possible. As he did so, white skin to be caressed by his trembling hands. Maleficent never felt so alive—her skin burned under the fabric of her robes. Diaval, too, was remembered by the softness of her. Her grown ended throw away and the cold that hit her skin caused goosebumps, but the fire was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

Underneath, she wore a substantially small piece of underwear, made of white and soft fabric, probably silk, almost transparent, covering the once forbidden parts of her body—from her breasts to her mid tight. Impatient she was, a wave of her fingers and her underwear disappeared, exposing everything to a dark pair of lustful eyes.

Diaval, chest heaving up and down, pupils dilated and so dark, blatantly stared.

"...dearest?"

And leave it to Maleficent to feel self conscious when the man she loved wouldn’t even blink as he stared at her breasts with pure fascination.

But he was so memorized by the sight of a naked fae in the penumbra that his thoughts fled focus, spreading exhaustive heat through his body.

" _They_ —I mean,  _you_ are so...so..." Releasing some air, Diaval noticed the throttle on his breath. His gaze reluctantly left her chest and returned to her face, more precisely to her beautiful eyes, and only then he became aware of the affection look the fae had on him. He swallowed, "W-what do you want me to do, my love?"

Maleficent let her hands to find his face, outlining his features and making him close his eyes at her soft touch. Her mouth brushed his as she said, "All of me is allowed."

It was dangerous to say so, especially with her mate's eyes being so clouded with desire. But Maleficent had no fear. She had craved for those wild feelings for a long time. She wanted to feel him and to make him feel her love for him. She knew he wanted the same. To ravish her like an animal.

She welcomed his passion and her own.

"...touch me, Diaval."

 _Please_ came unspoken.

In seconds, she was on her back, his hands on her wrists, pulling them over her head. Maleficent just eyed him, curious at the sudden attitude. His touch was delicate, though, and soon she had her palms filled with tender kisses. His lips travelled up her right arm, and he licked her skin, torturing her in unforgettable ways. Her breath became audible; she was panting—her passion for him was suffocating.

"I love you." She felt his fingers tracing her features as his lips nibbled on hers, teasing and daring her to try anything. The fae moaned in pure desire, shamelessly revealing on the lips over her body. "I’m yours." His voice sounded strong as a wolf howling, warm as the dragon’s fire and proud as a horse’s trotting in the fields. He nibbled her earlobe, forcing her attention to pay attention to what he was saying and not to the pleasure of his actions. Maleficent was slightly surprised by the act and at how much this new side of her mate made her aroused. "You...are you mine as well? Mine to take? To love?"

And here was the sweetness of the berries a raven must harvest to his mate that made her heart even more in love. That side that cared about her well-being more than anything else, that side that would always listen to her thoughts, that side that would put her first, the side that saw her as an option— _the best one_. By his own choice and will, she would be  _his_ , and any fears became so superficial and foolish, for between possession and gentleness, what prevailed was the pure sense of protection. The power brought by the knowledge that he wanted her and no one else.

So she waited no time to promise, "...yes."

And for many it may seem absurd to give yourself to another so independently, but Maleficent has been alone for enough time already, thinking that no one would have her, for what pride could bring a cursed creature?

Diaval never saw anything but  _her—_ it was always  _her,_ and she would gladly belong to him, she was proud of him just as he was proud of her. Her world was no longer her own—she could share it with someone else. She was wanted by the one her heart wanted and the position she was in made her clearly feel said want, swollen and hard between her legs. Her own wetness increased, and tentatively moving her hips against his, a sudden electric wave snatched her.

They kissed passionately. Her hands relied on his strong shoulders, pinning his body against hers. His fingers began caressing the base of her horns, slipping into her hair as his lips made their journey from her jawline to her neck.

Her hands found their way to his back, shamelessly exploring his scars and so often squeezing his muscles, having sighs and grunts as response to her touches. His heart was against hers, and his scars were prominent to her stomach and her centre burned. To be in her mate's arms made her happy, but the fact that she actually had a mate to call  _hers_ was ecstatic.

Before long, she felt trembling hands cupping her breasts. Diaval savoured the feel of them, delighting himself in weight and softness, until he could no longer resist and squeezed them slightly, his thumbs rubbing and pitching. Maleficent had no shame when she covered his hands with hers, pressing it to assert his touch and her appreciation, encouraging him to continue what he was doing, wishing he wasn't so afraid of hurting her.

When he pulled his lips away, Maleficent groaned in complain, but when she felt his tongue cross over her collarbone, forming a trail of saliva that felt cold against the breeze, she lost it.

Diaval was in absolute awe by the fae's skin. Her taste was alluring and he couldn't get enough of it. She sweating warmly, and he could feel her heartbeat against his tongue. He took a minute to leave her neck and replace a hand in her chest with his mouth, drowning in the softness of her skin, the fat of her full breast, licking and sucking. He took his time, apparently unable to get rid of such a possessive feeling of tasting, not when his mate was moaning quietly against his ear, practically begging for more.

As his kisses turned into bites, Maleficent pulled his hair, pressing his head closer to her chest, not wanting his kisses to ever stop. She was moaning incessantly. Her claws dug into his muscles, feeling them contract, and the more frantic his movements became, the more noises were issued through silence. She blinked at the ceiling, her ears picked up the sound of her mate's sucking and her own moans. When Diaval decided to leave her breasts and kiss below, she dared to look down, and she felt her cheeks burn for her effort, when he felt her mate moving down her body with his kisses. Despair led her, making her take his face in her hands, and ignoring the confused look he offered her, she brought his wet lips to hers.

Amid a nest of darkness, the fae and the raven lost themselves in newly erotic sensations. Hands were guided through naked skin, inexperienced but willing to learn. Passion was present, as fire seemed to surround them.

Everything seemed to stop, however, when dark-browned feathers were touched...

Maleficent gasped and arched her back. Diaval took advanced of the fact that her back was no longer touching the nest and began to massage the small set of feathers that surrounded the base of her wings. Maleficent groaned and dug her claws into his shoulder blades. Diaval bit her neck in response and rolled them over, and Maleficent lied half away on the top of him, one leg over his waist, breasts pressing against his chest, shaking hands gripping his arms, gasping mouth against his neck. His hands rested on her hips, and he couldn't prevent a quiet moan, sincere and willing.

Maleficent started placing several kisses over his neck and chest, as if healing the scars that her magic had caused, and when she could no longer bear the will, she turned to his lips.

He kissed her back, mirroring the feelings she carried and giving free space to desperation, mostly brought by his hands, which instinctively turned to stroke her wings. These became restless, and flapped on their will. Maleficent frowned when trying to concentrate on stopping them. When no wish seemed to work on settling her wings, she pulled away and rested her forehead against her beloved’s, breathing harshly.

"...my love?" Diaval was calling her while ceasing to caress her wings and they finally stopped flapping.

Maleficent allowed herself a moment to breathe. She was not puzzled by the influence her mate had on her wings, but how now his touches carried freedom and she could say nothing to explain what she was feeling, for she lacked wise or plausible words. The pleasure of her mate’s hands caressing her wings had stolen her power of speech.

"Did…is everything well with your wings?" Diaval asked worriedly. "They seem...restless tonight."

Maleficent found his innocence adorable, "They’ve always reacted to your touch, Diaval." She replied with a smile.

" _My_  touch?" He waited for her quite assertive so he could run his fingers up from her back to her right wing, scratching lightly. That resulted on an unfocused movement, and Maleficent shivered, "Are you cold?" Diaval asked as he felt the goosebumps on her arms, and turned on his side to wrap his arms more securely around her body. Maleficent loved how warm his body was against hers, also finding it funny that he did not realize the effects he had on her, nor the simple reactions he could get by simply touching her wings.

"Do you...do you wish to stop?"

He was so filled with a barely hidden desire and lack of self control that the fae could only wish to kiss him.

"Do you?" She had to ask, though it was unnecessary.

Diaval chose to be honest, "I... _no..._ but if you—"

"I don’t wish to stop."

He closed his eyes, "...you don’t?"

Her reply was to kiss him. Her claws stuck in his pants, in a futile attempt to get them out of her way. She knew of the boldness of her actions, but the fire within her was so big that she felt it was not the time to think.

And, unlike his shirt and her grown, his pants and his shoes were careless thrown to a corner of the nest, forgotten for the moment.

They found themselves bared to each other, and without a hint of shame. She had seen him naked once, a long time ago, something almost odd to think about. However, it made seeing him naked again not a problem. He looked painful swollen, and by its redness and how harder and bigger it became by the second, she could tell that he also liked the view of her body.

To Diaval, as expected, nudity had never has been something uncomfortable. He was a wild creature, so human moral problems were not part of his routine. To him, his mate—his love—was indeed beautiful, and if he could ask her to be nude to him every day, he would, so he would cover her body in kisses and caresses, and his eyes, curious to enjoy having her, willing and gorgeous, with him and him alone, would shine in satisfaction.

He just wasn't expecting her sit down on his lap, neither to take him in her hand nor try some timid movements. As he let out a pleasant sigh, she decided to try a stronger grip, making him struggle to contain his grunts. His trembling hands instinctively grabbed her thighs, squeezing them in response to the pleasure of her hand on him as his hips moved involuntarily. The fae would steal kisses from his mouth, as she had always loved to be in control, and to know that her touch caused such pleasure to her beloved was quite satisfactory. She felt him pulse under her fingers, and her grip tightened once more.

Such movements also beget effects on her. Pure warmth and wetness burned between her legs, for to touch him so intimately was pleasurable for her, and her ego swelled—she couldn't stop. She increased her movements, up and down, squeezing and pulling.

Diaval dropped his head to her shoulder, ecstasy cracking the nerves of his exposed skin. She squeezes him and he clenches his teeth, whimpering and begging so pathetically that she took pity on him and stopped her frantic movements.

The raven cupped the back of her neck and captured her lips in a bruising kiss, rough and desperate unlike the sweet raven she had met. He laid her on her back in the nest, a leg by each side of his body. He felt himself harden against her belly, and he lost his breath, breaking the kiss, anticipating the unbearable pleasure that was to come.

Still, he feared, "I...I don’t want to hurt you."

Brushing her lips over his face, Maleficent whispered, "You could never hurt me."

Fully aware to the explicit trust in her voice, Diaval kissed her mouth lovingly, a brief prelude to the following actions. Resting one hand on her hip, his lips never leaving hers, he guided himself into her.

There was no pain, only a brief discomfort, as the wetness of her centre made of the act something immensely easy. Within seconds he was fully inside, pulsing, feeling her adjusting to his size and hardness.

Diaval had clamped his hands on the large branch that formed the base of the nest, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles became white by the lack of running blood. He was trembling, greeting his teeth—he was going mad. The flesh of her was incredibly hot and capable of taking savage growls from his throat. To savour such sensations brought through sweat, saliva, blood and passion was an extraordinary blissful thing. To be literally surrounded by her, buried in her irresistible heat and wetness, burning and clasping around him, was the purest sense of pleasure and ecstasy of his life, able to make him soar.

But he wouldn’t move an inch, as he wasn’t sure if his mate was overwhelmed by the same pleasure he was. So he just waited, and although he was having trouble to breath, he kept his eyes opened, always attentive to his mate's needs and any unwanted reactions. Her eyes were tightly closed, lips parted, breathing hard and fast, sweat dropping down her skin. Diaval rested on his elbows so he could nuzzle hair, pulling it away from her face so she would feel more comfortable.

The act didn’t go unnoticed by her, who smiled the best she could.

"...go on."

His eyes were on hers, "Are...is it good for you too?"

The response the inevitable first movement of her hips, and then a hiss and a gasp, a curse if both knew how. Immediately, Diaval pulled away, and Maleficent almost found enough coherence to voice a complain, choosing instead to wrap a leg around his mid section. Now, by the time she had him sliding him deeper in, the fae was sucking on his neck, venturous fingers travelling through his hair. She wanted to leave marks, so everybody would see that he belonged to her.

Diaval followed her guidance, grunting as his own hips now couldn’t stop if he wanted, of so hurried and desperate to feel.  _His_  hands rested by the nest, using the leverage as the support he needed in the moment, setting a more comfortable rhythm for both.  _Her_  hands travelled from his shoulders to down his back and below, to rest on his backside in the attempt to pull him even closer.

Lust marking their faces, their movements becoming rough as shocking waves of bright pleasure rocked over her senses.

In addition to the sound of their heavy breathing, the beating of their hearts could also be heard. It was strong and powerful. There was no more beautiful sound in the world. Two hearts beating, showing their love for each other.

If there were kisses, they were sloppy and languid and then short, till he had his head buried on her neck, biting and marking.

She would moan and hiss—then cup his face and bring his lips to hers. Then ask— _look at me_ —to bring him comfort, and not to miss any moment of his loss of inhibitions. She wanted to see his undoing. His passionate gaze made her feel so beautiful, like just this—skin gleaming, lips parted, a sense of desperation drunk in lust clouding their senses in a way she never knew possible, and it served as an aphrodisiac to witness it.

"...look at me."

And he would obey, forcing himself to fix his attention of her eyes.

So this was _passion_ —a strength of no precedents. She knew now, she felt, the power of being connected to the man she loved, so sublime and pure. And she gave reason to other creatures who spoke so well of such an act, for it was the most intimate thing she could share with someone—not only the physical part, but also the emotional part, of loving someone so much as to allow him to touch her, to feel her body, to be inside her, heavens, how could anything be so good? Outlining her mate’s chest, Maleficent found perfection. In the gloom, she saw scars, sweaty muscles—her raven, her man, her mate. She had a mate at last, she wasn't alone any more, and it brought her immense pleasure and even tears of joy. She let her hands explore his white skin, hearing him grunting quietly just feel her beneath him, to have himself inside her for the first time.

And Diaval watched her, in love with her beautiful wings, arching amid the bliss. He loved her so much, and it seemed surreal to be finally able to touch her. He pushed his hips against hers faster and harder, and her breath twitched. She began to moan openly, her voice echoing through the silence of the nest, but her eyes would never leave his—afraid it might be a dream.

The raven man blocked his senses in a blazing noise and moved his hips eagerly. His arms held her closer, laying her against him as his lips once again fell to her breasts. Nibbling the skin right over her pounding heart, Diaval aggravated his thrusts violently. Maleficent arched her back in amidst the climax, claws digging into his back and a silenced end broke through her moans. A powerful energy echoed through them both and they fell, spent, swallow breaths echoing.

"My love," Diaval was the first to recover, kissing his mate’s neck lazily and smiling like a fool. He could never imagine that such an animalistic and strange act could bring such a sense of satisfaction, pleasure, and even peace. The happiness of uniting your soul to the one you love.

However, Maleficent didn’t even seem to be able to speak just yet, despite her laugh meant that no discomfort would suit her current status. She murmured an ineligible statement, way too relaxed and content to consider thinking of any of word.

But oh, her happiness was contagious, "Are you alright?"

She then opened her eyes and it was easily the most beautiful sight he'd ever witnessed in his life. A beloved fae lying beneath him, her skin flushed with the afterglow and filled with purple marks and the brand of his teeth, her hair dishevelled while all but a few locks were attached to her sweaty forehead, her lips still redder than roses, as tempting as berries, and her eyes, made of the purest green, shining and expressing more than a thousand poems could try.

"...are you?" was her whisper—a jest within a smile. They kissed for a time that is not even relevant, hands exploring their sated and inevitably tired bodies, and occasionally they moved and groaned together, later laughing at the lack of experience in such a new situation.

Both gasped as their bodies finally parted, and rested side by side, facing each other. Maleficent knew she'd be a little sore in the morning, and non-existent was her concern. She wasn’t leaving that nest so soon. It was not time to worry about the fact that her legs were so lazy they didn’t obey her.

"...sleepy?" Maleficent sighed contently while Diaval ran a tentative hand over her side, "Does...does it hurt?"

The fae caressed his face, "I promised I would tell you, didn't I?"

Diaval nodded twice, "Can I, uh, can I do anything?"

Maleficent smiled, "Hold me?"

The raven man laid on his back and the fae snuggled into him, falling into a sleep that she prayed to the gods to be quiet and without wishes of things she couldn’t have.

And just as those three little faes came to her mind, they left, and the rain that came later were her tears, and as the embrace of her beloved, it brought her relief.

Let the wind carry her afflictions.

For now on, whatever she was fine into believing this was just a set of tricks of her mind, she was sure it had been the happiest of them.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Maleficent woke to the sound of thunders and the smell of bread. She opened her eyes and found herself in her nest, and the blankets covering her naked body felt so soft and so cosy that it took her several minutes to return to full consciousness.

A ranging storm poured outside, lightning crossing the clouds and wind hitting the curtains of the nest. Still, there was warmth around her.

She shifted and spot the place her side lacked a very important presence.

_Oh._

She sat up on an impulse that resulted on a wince from her part when she confirmed that yes, her legs were weak and maybe muscles she didn’t know she possessed were sore.

She laid back down and her wings hugged her, making her sigh. She felt sleepy and tired, though she knew she had never slept better.

Precisely because she wasn’t alone.

"Diaval?"

Turning on her side, she was quick to find her mate’s figure. Relief left her in the form of a long sigh, and there was no shame or shyness on her part as she rejoiced in pausing to study him closely. He wore nothing but a pair of pants, and Maleficent took pride as she noticed the several claw marks spreading all over his back. He seemed to be fixing something near the fireplace, which was still lit and warm.

"What are you doing?" She finally asked.

The raven man turned to reveal that pretty basket on his hands—their meal.

Maleficent felt a fond smile take place on her lips. The nest was safe and warm, and it carried a sense of an old routine and new domesticity and intimacy between the two of them that neither would ever tire of.

"I figured we needed some food. I hope you’re hungry." Diaval abandoned his place by the fireplace and approached his mate, "Good morning." He laid down next to her and leaned in for a kiss. "Or good evening, for the matter. We’ve been out for a day and a few hours. The sun had just set when I woke up. Then, it started raining. It is quite welcome, though. Spring this year is as warm as a summer. I think I might need a bath."

A wicked idea flashed a wave of heat down her body, making her voice a bit husky when she proposed, "We could take one by the lake."

And Diaval, totally unaware of his mate’s second intentions, agreed cheerfully, "Good. But first we eat, mist— _Maleficent_." He corrected himself quickly as his mate a raised an eyebrow at him. "Maleficent." He repeated and kissed her again.

The fae welcome his touches, sneaking her hands around his neck, purposely trying to make him fall back against her. It worked, as Diaval couldn’t resist her charms, and the pretty basket was forgotten for the moment.

"I adore that I can touch you like this." Diaval sounded so content. He rested his head to her heart, listening. "Did you sleep well?"

He had asked this overtime, and she would always lie and say she was fine when in fact she wanted to cry. There were times in which she woke up crying, there were times her tears gave place to screams, then insults, slaps driven by desperation.

No matter what, Diaval was there to hold her.

It felt oddly lovely not to need to lie this time.

 _Fine_  wouldn’t do though.

 _Amazing_ , yes.

It was the best night of her life.

"No nightmares." She assured him.

Diaval shifted his head back, nuzzling her cheek, "You promise?" The fae smiled as she nodded, "Do you have any...any pain? Any complains or..." His skin turned bright red as he added, "...any s-suggestions?"

_Oh?_

"You didn't do anything I wasn't comfortable with, Diaval."

"You’re covered with marks." He blurted out and his eyes automatically drifted to her uncovered chest, holding for longer seconds that made Maleficent feel powerful and beautiful.

She suggestively traced down the marks left on her neck and collarbone, amusing herself as her mate’s eyes followed her movements, "I don’t mind a few marks."

He was still staring at her chest, "But there are too many."

"Is that a problem?"

Diaval swallowed, "Well, I...that is...it is..."

Maleficent wanted to laugh, "Why so shy now, dearest? You did those marks."

Diaval broke his gaze to her face, "And I don't know _why_ I. _..._ I don’t understand why what happened yesterday doesn’t seem to be enough to... _put out the fire_ , if you get what I mean."

Oh, did she? " _Lovemaking_  is meant to stir the fire, and not the contrary."

The raven man held a curious twinkle in his gaze, " _Lovemaking?_  Is that how fairies call it?"

"Humans do it as well."

"Oh." His head tilted a little, so innocent and willing, "I like this term. It is accurate, I mean, it feels like I was making _love_ to you."

And when Maleficent realized, she was smiling, "It did."

Then, Diaval frowned, his brain never stopping storming, "But what if I want to make more marks? If I make too many marks and others see them?"

Now Maleficent laughed, and she leaned in more closely so she would feel his breath on her face, "...let them see."

Diaval was silent, as if trying to understand. His eyes winded as he concluded, "You...you want people to see them?" Her smirk made him snort, "And here I thought I was being  _possessive_."

"I never denied I was." She was touching the claw marks spread over her mate’s shoulders, "Do you mind?"

He was too quick to admit, "I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to mark you."

Maleficent allowed herself another laugh before stealing a quick kiss and sitting on the nest, not caring if Diaval was watching how the covers would slip from her body and reveal her nakedness. She lazily stretched her limbs and sore muscles, unsure if she had the strength to move her legs. What she knew was that she was hungry indeed, and didn’t bother to put on her robes before she grabbed the pretty basket that has been her gift and started looking for something to eat.

As to Diaval, well, there was nothing but the vision of his mate. Maleficent realized that he looked as fascinated as when he first saw her this way. She was not embarrassed but proud to have such effect on him.

Smirking, she said, "You’re drooling, birdie."

Diaval brought a hand to his mouth as quickly, and once he realized he was being mocked by his mate, he exclaimed, "You’re teasing me now." He grabbed her by the waist and they both fell in the nest again, and the fae's laughter was muffled by her mate’s kissing and touching.

"This feels like a dream." Diaval’s voice was so dreamy that it made Maleficent's heart ache in happiness. "Last night certainly felt like one, yes."

That made the fae pull away, and smirk as Diaval chased after her lips.

"You..." a peck on her lips travelled down to her neck, and she sighed before continuing, "...you dreamed of this before?"

Diaval ceased with his kisses, unsure, and blushed modestly as he confessed, "A few times?"

_Too many times._

"Does that bother you?"

Not at all.

"I’m curious about what you might do to me in those dreams."

Diaval frowned, actually trying to remember, "Nothing different from what we did. I mean, there was lots of kissing. I like kissing. Kissing you, that’s it."

"I've exceeded your expectations then?" The fae teased.

Diaval nodded, "Pretty much so, yes."

Maleficent proposed a daring smirk that made him swallow, "Show me how much."

And the raven man couldn't deny his mate anything, could he?

"Anything for you."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"May I ask something?"

Maleficent was leaning lazily against her mate, who laughed lightly at the carefree way she was porting.

Hours after the rain had passed, the fae and the raven man flew to a discreet part of the lake, beneath a large weeping willow whose leaves touched the waters, and there they bathed and lost themselves to passion and the discovery of new and wonderful sensations.

As expected, other creatures were smart enough not to disturb them-not only out of fear at Maleficent's reaction, but also at Diaval's reaction, as everyone knew of the power within him and how dragons could be predicable. 

Maleficent was grateful for the privacy, whether or not her people allowed such luxury out of fear and not out of affection.

But all the affection she needed was given by a creature who just loved worshipping her body.

Later, a new stream of water flowed through the woods and all living creatures retreated to their homes.

Maleficent quietly listened to the sound of the water drops hitting the ceiling, and sighed as a sense of cozy warmth surrounded her, sometimes feeling shivers in response to the fingers preening the feathers of her wings.

"Done." Diaval kissed her shoulder, having finished his work. 

Maleficent spread out her wings, flapping them lightly to get rid of any loose feathers. It was amazing how they grew lighter every time Diaval touched them. She loved it when he did it, and she was very relaxed before so much attention and affection.

Of course, the fact that she had been lost in passion for hours also helped in her tiredness.

But it was the most delicious fatigue of her life.

She laid her head on her mate's chest, hugging him close.

And as she gave him no sign of response to his question, Diaval had to check if she was still awake.

"My love?"

"I'm listening." She mumbled sleepily, cuddling into his neck.

"Are you?" A kiss against his pulsing point made Diaval smile openly, "Well, if that’s the case, then..." He pursed his lips in thought, resting his chin against her forehead, being quite mindful of her horns, "...can you tell me  _why?"_

Maleficent’s voice was curious, "...why what, dearest?"

Diaval nuzzled her hair, "Why choose me? You could've chosen anyone as your mate, but you chose me."

His clear insecurity made Maleficent wide awake, and she rested her chin on his chest she would look up at him, "I couldn’t just chose anyone."

Diaval disagreed, "Mistress, you’re the most beautiful creature in the Moors. Surely—" He was stopped when he noticed the light frown on his mate’s brow, and it took little time for him to realize his mistake, "Maleficent." He spoke then, bringing a small smile to his mate’s lips, "You’re beautiful, Maleficent." His fingers traced her features as he spoke, "I don’t see why someone wouldn’t—"

"The Moor folk chose their mates by their beauty and for their availability to bear young."

"So do ravens."

That made her curious.

"That's  _why_ then."

He blinked, "Why  _what?"_

"Why you chose me." She rephrased. "Because of how I look."

It couldn't be because of her availability to bear young, since there was none.

Plus, she knew how good she looked. Many creatures hated her for it.

"You fascinated me from the first moment." Diaval confessed. "You were mysterious and dangerous. I was captivated..." His eyes were lost in hers, in the ever so alive green and so sincere and full of a love that made him so happy, "...I still am."

Now her gaze became gentle, "When did you know?"

Diaval didn’t even think to answer, "When I saw your wings."

The fae wished to say she was surprised, "My wings?" She was smiling though, so was her amusement.

But her mate was never subtle on his fascination toward her wings, "They’re beautiful, what can I say? I’ve never seen quite a pair. I love them too."

And it warmed her heart to see how much.

"Not that if you didn’t have them I wouldn’t love you, I mean, they helped me realizing it. It took me years, but then I started to see you, the real you." He brought a hand to her face, caressing the well defined line of her jaw, "Not the evil fae who wanted revenge on the king, but the fae who had her wings stolen and found on evil her way of dealing with the pain."

Maleficent felt her lips tremble at the statement. She had to argue, "It doesn’t justify my actions."

But Diaval insisted, "You proved them all wrong—humans and creature alike. I witnessed how you watched over Aurora, how your hate turned into love, how you even protected those who feared you, even knowing there was nothing you could do to have their love."

"I never ceased to be their Guardian, Diaval. They weren’t the ones who hurt me."

He begged to differ, "Excluding you from their festivities did hurt you."

"There was no right in me to be part of those festivities."

"Just because you’re different doesn’t mean no one would chose you."

True, but not entirely.

"Did anyone?"

No one did.

"It’s not fair to be denied love just because you’re different."

"It’s how nature has been ruled since the beginning—and it shall go this way forever." Sure, she wouldn’t lie—she tried to make her people accept her, at all costs, she tried to prove that she deserved an opportunity, but it was all in vain. Reality was cruel because it couldn’t be changed, and Maleficent learned that the hard way. "You cannot change how the world works, Diaval." She said to note the expression of irritation on her mate's face.

"I can still defy them." He tightened his arms around her in a determinate and possessive embrace, "You’re my mate and I  _dare_  anyone to question my decision."

Maleficent felt her chest tightening. His pride on having her by his side left her a little breathless, "It won’t always be as simple." She said in a soft whisper.

Diaval dropped a kiss to where one of her horns sprout out of her head, "Was it ever to us?"

Fair point.

"You didn’t answer my question though." She heard him mumble against her hair, while combing a few locks with his fingers, "Why me?"

To Maleficent, it was easy, really.

"You're my wings." She caressed his face, his scars, searching for all the love she could feel burning, and finding so much more, "You make me feel safe." even though she knew that she would always have much more power than him, "I trust you." how many times did they share the nest, and could he had taken advantage of her vulnerable state, just like Stefan once did, to attack her and be free? But her raven had honour and he always respected her. "I know you wouldn’t hurt me." At last, she smiled, "And Aurora loves you."

And Diaval almost burst into tears, the sense of privilege that surrounded him being so great. He felt so loved.

"Well, that’s...that’s..."

"Not what you expected?"

"Much more than I deserve." Diaval completed, and now his mate’s eyes were filled with tears. For there was so much truth in his voice that the walls around her heart melted away as a sand castle hit by waves. "I...seems so unbelievable. You feel the same way! I...I have dreamed of you—of _this,_  so many times that..."

And the fae lined his lips kindly, hushing his words, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't feel the same, would I?"

And Diaval broken into a huge smile, crashing his lips with hers, tearing a small laugh from her throat.

Then, he pulled away, and his mate watched fondly as the adorable crinkle on his brow was back—"You said the Moors takes beauty into consideration for a mate?" Maleficent was silent, a sign for him to go on, "So you're saying that...my beautiful self helped on your decision?"

The fae pressed her lips together to prevent a laugh, "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" He brought a hand to his own chest in a feigned dramatization, "My heart is wounded. I shall never recover from this attack."

And Maleficent let herself laugh at her mate's playfulness, loving every moment, "Your eyes remind me of the night sky." She explained, and Diaval closed his eyes as he felt two hands touch his face, "They are beautiful to me." She kissed his temples, "I love you, Diaval. I may not be good at showing it, but I do love you. For what you’ve done to me, for who you are, and for how much you can make me  _feel_."

Oh, but now his smile was contagious.

"I can only adore you, my love."

She knew that now. She  _really_ did.

"Good."

Outside, a lighting crossed the skies as a consequence.

"Looks like we won’t be leaving the nest so soon." Diaval then let out a frustrated sigh, "You noticed how they wouldn't bother us by the lake? I hope they leave us alone from now on. If I hear any complaining again, I might consider turning into a dragon. That’s a promise." He heard a small chuckle and squeezed his mate’s side in a playful rebuke, feeling her smirk against his neck, "Unless that’s you? Your feelings reflect on the weather, yes? And rain..." His face fell. "Is rain a bad sign?"

Maleficent smiled at his line of reasoning, "It did help on cooling the  _heat_ , didn't it?"

The raven man turned red, "Well, that...you won’t let go of me means you like my heat, right?"

The fae smiled only, sighing of so happy.

"That day then...when you left to the lake...the rain was because you had a bad dream?"

_Ah._

"Not a nightmare."

Diaval frowned, "Memories then?"

"Just dreams."

The frown was dissolved into surprise and worry, "...good dreams that make you cry?"

Maleficent contemplated her would to be answer for a long period of time. She knew she would have to tell Diaval of her dreams sooner or later. He was her mate. It was unthinkable on her part to keep any secrets from him. Still, she was unsure if it was better to keep such dreams untouched. It was not that she didn’t want to share her burdens. It was so liberating to have someone willing to listen to her. At the same time, it seemed selfish and cruel. Diaval was an empathetic creature. He literally lived the pain of those he loved. And Maleficent would never inflict on him any kind of suffering, even if it meant appeasing her own.

Which made her feel that old tightness on her chest, the longing and wanting for something so pure she would never have. It would always be there. And she knew that the more she fought it, the more it hurt. To accept her fate was painful on different stages of coping. Hope itself was painful due the enormous risk of disappointment. Wishing for something you could not have was an innocent sentiment. And it hurt a lot.

But it would hurt more to live a lie.

Looking at Diaval and Aurora was to face a future filled with love—so forbidden for so many years.

Yet it would lack the beautiful moment any creature could have by the end of the summer and it broke her heart to realize that Diaval would have to accept there was a special place in their next place that would always be empty.

It was difficult for her to understand that he knew what he was doing—that he was aware of the risks of choosing her as a mate, that he knew of the sacrifices he would have to make, that he understood the pain there was to come when you acknowledge that no offspring would come from you.

Maleficent was used to such sad truth—it was a lifelong enemy she had learned to deal with, no matter how it shattered her insides, drawing the air from her lungs—it was stifling at how helpless it made her feel. Diaval would be new to all this, and although he seemed ready to face it, did it really make a difference?

He wouldn’t leave her, neither would Maleficent leave him. She also didn’t doubt on his word—they would face the future together. But she couldn’t help feeling inevitably guilty for wanting to share her burdens with him.

The way he smiled at her, however, made her so safe. It made her believe. Because, along Aurora, she was the cause of his happiness as he was the cause of hers, and although she would give anything to have  _Anton, Izaak_ and _Lor_  here as well, she felt they wouldn’t be happy if their mother wasn’t.

To honour the dream of their memory, she would try and smile and speak.

Out of love, she accepted: life was not everything she wished it could be—definitely not everything it could be—but she could find happiness if she tried.

"Empty corner by your right. Closer to the fireplace. You see it?"

Diaval's gaze found the spot, and he nodded, saying nothing.

His mate took a deep breathe, and prolonged her response for a moment before she pulled out oh his embrace to lie down on her back.

"That's where they...were supposed to sleep...was I not an...was I not... _different_ from others."

She felt Diaval tense, moving to lie on his side and face his mate. But she refused to look at him, and she kept staring at the ceiling. Her voice hitched as a hand rested on her womb, fingers moving in caresses that eased the anguish even for a moment.

A silent request was made, and she covered his hand with hers, holding it there on her womb, knowing full well that her eyes were already burning with the tears now falling on the sides of her face.

Maleficent forced herself to continue, "I called them Anton, Izaak and Lor."

Diaval tilted his head to the side, a sign that he was trying to find memories in such names. His eyes went from confused to startled, widening as the answer came to his mind.

"My love..."

Maleficent’s smile was as tearful as her lament, "They are a memory. A projection of...of a wish." And she cannot not remember them, her little boys, and her heart shattered. But how could she miss those she never really had? Her magic disagreed vehemently, creating bonds that she did not know if she would be able to let go. "They aren't real." A sad chuckle was inevitable—she had to remind herself, hadn't she? "But faires and faes are known to be quite creative and..." That made her taste her own tears, while her voice would falter at the memory of her sons, "We can create memories. Dreams of realities." and her eyes would burn so painfully she was not able to keep them open. "I dreamed of them on that day, and on the night before, which is why I...left you. Spring brings out those feelings from me. I won't be having them anymore, I don't think, I—I'm sorry." She opened her eyes, "This is my burden, a flaw I can't change and—"

The feeling of gentle lips capturing cut her off in mid sentence, and she allowed herself to be lost in the midst of passion as her only means of consolation. She brought her mate to rest on top of her, sighing at the contact against bare skin. She loved to feel his weight, his presence, his scent, his warmth.

He was the realism she needed to move on.

"They must've been as beautiful as their mother."

Words from a man who loved her so much, and who was now crying over her pain, and Maleficent could only cry more.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, don’t be." He begged, and his voice broke, "Have you any idea, I...I feel so honoured to be the one you chose to have little hatchlings with."

And Maleficent cried, "—they  _aren’t_  real. They can _never_  be real and...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

Diaval cried too. Because if he could give up on his wings so his mate would have her dreams come true, he would do it in a heartbeat.

" _Never_ apologise for loving someone." And he professed something once not acknowledged by her fearful heart, "I won't apologise for loving you. For loving _them_."

She was in denial, "They're aren't real."

"They are real enough to be loved by your heart." He said, and grabbed her hand, placing over his chest, smile tearful and sad, "And so they are to be loved by mine."

Maleficent's eyes were shining, the comfort brought by the incessant sound of his heart beating against hers being better than everything she had ever dreamed of. 

The  _why_  was on the truth that has been always there—the warmth of her raven, and the innocent eyes of her little beastie shining like the most beautiful stones against the sunlight, meant the world to her. The affection shown by their actions brought more and more tears to her own.

Because she was loved like any hybrid wasn’t supposed to be.

It was overwhelming as it was scaring.

How can she not be happy about that?

Her little ones weren't real. But her love for them was. And so she would hold them in her heart and smile at what could've been a lovely memory.

"Thank you." The fae rested her forehead against her beloved's, both closing their eyes in contemplation—shared pain and mutual love, "Thank you."

And no words were needed after that, for  _home_  was no longer a foreign term, neither  _love_  a concept.

Both were  _real_.

 _Beautiful_ —as fairy tales say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! You have no idea how much it means to me! Anyway, I’m considering writing a sequel, but I still need to finish another fic for that to happen. Wish me luck! See ya!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please, let me a review.


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